


Some folk we never forget Some kind we never forgive

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil never thought it would begin like this, he never imagine by the time they reach the end he would find that which his heart desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Totally AU. Trying to fill the prompt from LJ Hobbit-kink meme: Any situation/setting is completly fine, just please, please let their be no angst at the end.

 

**Some folk we never forget**

**Some kind we never forgive**

If you were to ask him when it all began he wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully.

His feelings were always changing combining affection with annoyance, happiness with longing, lust with disenchantment and love with hate. He could tell you, however, that his attraction began the moment he met the young Prince:

The Throne room of Erebor was simply magnificent.

There wasn’t any other word to describe the carefully crafted designs on the walls, or the marble sculptures representing the line of Durin, or how splendid was the craftsmanship on the Throne itself. As Thranduil walked down the corridor he couldn’t help but admire the beauty and enthusiasm in which the Dwarves had built their Kingdom. Because, that much Thranduil could give the race of Durin; when they put their mind on something the end results were usually marvelous and quite acceptable. Even for an Elven-king.

The Elven-King made a halt and his eyes went immediately to the infamous gemstone: The Arkestone. Thranduil inclined his head briefly uttering the words of courtesy and standing quietly as Thrór spoke about friendship, peace and new treaties. As the King under the Mountain spoke the Elven-king felt his attention drifting away to a most singular figure.

He recognized Thráin for the pompous way in which he held himself. His lips were curled up in an arrogant smile, showing off more jewelry and metallic artifacts than even the King wore himself. But then…then, Thranduil’s eyes found the curious figure of the young Prince.

The young Prince stood proudly at his father right side, his dark eyes gleaming in the room taking in the figures of the Elves with disdain. He had a short beard, showing his youth, and his clothes, of a dark, royal blue, shone the way the armor he wore did. It was almost impossible to mistake this individual as none other than Thrór’s grandson and Thráin’s son: Thorin.

Thranduil had heard of him, of course. The young prince which shared his grandfather’s favor even more so than Thráin; Thranduil couldn’t blame Thrór for he had met Thráin in the past and the animosity the Dwarf held against Elves made it almost impossible to have a civil, diplomatic conversation.

But, this was the first time his eyes fell upon the young Prince and the Elven-King felt entranced by him. While it was true not all Dwarves were unsightly, the rough structure of their faces and the wildness most of them wore weren’t what any elf or mortal would call attractive. Still, there were some among Dwarves who wore a wild beauty that couldn’t be ignored.

Apparently, the young Prince inherited such a beauty.

It was the first time Thranduil felt attraction to someone that wasn’t an elf. It wasn’t unheard of, after all, physical attraction and desire was normal. It tended to be a primal instinct more than anything and, once in a while, the different races indulged themselves in such desires (Beren and Lúthien had been an example of that, if with unexpected results.).

So, be as it may be, Thranduil set his eyes, and desires on the young Prince.

He took his time, tilting his head so his deep, blue eyes were at the right angle to inspect Thorin. He took deep pleasure in discovering the strong yet softened expression on the young Dwarf’s face, his eyes were deep and expressive, dark pools of proudness and indifference. He was built like a warrior but held like a King, his posture told Thranduil of hours of training and hearing the grunts indicating when his posture was faltering.

Thorin was indeed an heir of Durin.

For almost half an hour, Thranduil indulged himself into observing the young Prince. The more he looked the more he felt enchanted and his mind was already working on what he was going to do to obtain what he desire.

For a brief moment, his eyes found Thorin’s ones. Thranduil felt a sudden urge to smirk amusedly at the disdain, the lack of interest in them. The young Dwarf looked at him as nothing more than another Lord on the long list of Lords to visit Erebor. Thranduil allowed himself a quirk of his lip, a brief arched of his eyebrow and amusement in his eyes.

This intrigued Thranduil, for the dismissal the young Prince was showing was a new reaction to the elf’s presence. Usually, people regarded him as something ethereal, a beauty beyond any comprehension that not many had the pleasure to see much less touch.

Thorin was watching him like nothing more than a peasant. And, truthful to his character, Thranduil was trying to do the same.

It didn’t take long before the Elven-king and the rest of his escort were directed to their respective rooms and invited to the great feast in their honor. Thranduil inclined his head and turned around sending Thorin one last glance.

This was their first meeting and it stirred physical desire in the Elven-King, he had a sudden need to taste and defile the young prince. See that disgusted stare vanished and being taken over by desire and lust. Thranduil smiled to himself, perhaps he could make his visit to Erebor a little bit longer than he previously planned. It would give him a chance to ensnare Thorin and obtain what he wanted.

In retrospective, Thranduil should have listened to the small voice screaming for common sense ( _He is Dwarf! What, in Varda’s name, are you doing? Imagine what your father or King Thingol would say!)._ He shouldn’t have been so arrogant and childish as to ignore the voice and go after his desires as if trying to seduce a young prince was some kind of game. Yet, he did it and it would be years later that he would regret his decision for…

…Whoever heard of an Elf, an Elven-King at that, to fall in love with a Dwarf?

  
It was preposterous!

* * *

* * *

* * *

If he were to remember the exact moment he realized something was very wrong with him, he would probably tell you he noticed it by the time he was visiting Erebor for the fiftieth time.

His first visit was filled with brief encounters and conversations between himself and Thorin. The Elven-King was trying to gauge the reactions the young Prince had to his presence, he was trying to get some advantage he could use to obtain his goals. However, and even with his best effort to seduce the prince of Dwarves, Thranduil failed. Miserably. Epically.

Thorin had learnt to be civil but it was his eyes what really uncovered his feelings. And those black pools told Thranduil he was seen as not much of a simple peasant of the men. Not even an Elf. Not even a Dwarf. A man. A mortal, rude and dirty and…ugh!

No one and he meant no one, had ever ignored him or insulted him in such a manner. With or without words and Thorin had arranged to do both cunningly.

Thranduil proposed himself to humiliate the young Prince, and the best way to do so was to lure him into his bed and then dismiss him as nothing more than a mistake.

The Elven-King, however, didn’t count how pleasant, smart or charming Thorin could be. By his second visit everything had been arrange so Thorin along with four of his most trusted friends would be in charge of Thranduil and his companions needs.

In those moments, in which Thorin would take him to the deepest of the Dwarven Kingdom and show him some of their creations, Thranduil realized the young Prince was a delightful company.

Thorin seemed to possess the best qualities of his father and grandfather and none of the bad qualities. He was quite intelligent even if sometimes he tried to cover it up; he was well informed about the happenings on the other Kingdoms of his race and the remains of the Elves and the growing cities of Men. He understood some of the facts surrounding the great happenings between the First and the Second Age and, more times that Thranduil cared to count, Thorin would sneak a tricky question directed to Thranduil (What really happened between King Thingol and the Dwarves? Was Thorin’s favorite one.) enjoying the silence around them as both, Elves and Dwarves, awaited for his answer.

Thorin would usually smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement and challenge for Thorin knew the Elven-King felt uncomfortable for how loaded the answers may get. Nevertheless, Thranduil never back off and answer as swiftly and as wittily as he could. Sometimes he could see the blind rage on Thorin’s eyes and some other’s he enjoyed the quiet approval the Prince showed to his comments.

Thranduil’s visits would always end up with some kind of meeting and discussion with Thorin. There would be exchanged of looks and touches, there would be flirtation from both parts but never, not even once, Thorin made his intentions clear and he would always, always, left Thranduil hanging in between frustration and arousal.

  
And, little by little, the Elven-king of Mirkwood found himself looking forward to meeting the young Prince and spending some quality time with him. He looked forward to see him speak and share his stories and Thranduil soon realized he was in deep trouble.

“What is this? I have never seen this with you.” Thrór interrupted the conversation he was maintaining with Thranduil, his hand pointing at the masterfully craft harp Thorin was holding. The young Prince glanced at the instrument, his eyes turned quickly towards Thranduil and then to Balin until he finally addressed his grandfather.

“It is a gift, my Lord.” Thorin presented the instrument but his hand held it firmly closed to his chest. His grandfather arched an eyebrow mildly impressed and curious.

“A gift? For you?” At Thorin’s nod Thrór turned to Thráin with an expectant stare. “You didn’t tell me Thorin already has a suitor asking for his hand.”

“I wasn’t aware of this, Father. Apparently, Thorin has been keeping this courting secret?”

Thranduil suddenly found the cup in front of him interesting, his lips curling up in a imperceptible smile. Balin coughed choking on the beverage he had been consuming, Dwalin shaking his head patting him on the back while Thorin held his father and granfather’s stare.

“It is not a gift of courtship but a simple gesture of friendship.” Replied Thorin with as much seriousness as he could muster. His grandfather didn’t look convinced much like his father but before either of them could ask any more question’s Thranduil spoke.

“Do you know how to play such a fine instrument, Prince Thorin?” Thranduil leaned back against his chair, there was humor in his eyes but something else was gleaming in them, something Thorin found interesting.

“Of course he does!” Replied Thrór with a prideful smile. “He is a fine performer, the best since I was young…”

Thrór started talking about his own youthful days in which he would perform in his father’s court. Thráin was paying close attention to his father but Thorin’s eyes were on Thranduil’s.

Thranduil felt satisfied; his gift had been well received and Thorin, loyal to his grandfather’s words, had been a great performer. The young prince tore strong notes from the golden harp, the melody off the ancient Halls of Erebor always speaking about gold and jewels, about that which Dwarves love the most.

It wasn’t until he was in his room that Thranduil allowed himself the pleasure of the memory of Thorin’s face, the passion gleaming in those eyes while he played the harp masterfully. Those black orbs piercing the Elven-King all through the night.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“You seem to favor this place above any other inside our city, my Lord.” Thranduil knew that deep voice, he would recognize it anywhere. The voice alone was the first thing he felt attract to. It was deep and confident, a sweet caress against Thranduil’s skin making him feel a desire he hadn’t felt since his youth.

“It has his charm. Your people have done a good job to enchant my eyes.” Thranduil smirked just as Thorin approached from behind standing right beside him.

“I seemed to remember last time we were here I mentioned to you that this place was forbidden.” Replied Thorin frowning slightly. “Elves should not be here.”

Thranduil smirked playfully straightening his back and looking down at Thorin who glared back at him. The Elven-King moved closer brushing his hand against the shoulder of the young prince and directing his footsteps to the closest stairs.

“But, if I understood King Thrór correctly, you were ordered to be my escort today, weren’t you?” Thorin grunted noncommittally his black eyes locked with Thranduil’s blue ones.

“These are the resting homes of my ancestors. Some of them suffered under the cold steel of your people.” Thorin moved closer to Thranduil, the Elf was resting a few steps down so his face was up to Thorin’s one. “You don’t deserve to be here, King Thranduil.”

“Then, Prince Thorin, allowed me to honor those who fell under my people’s steel.” Replied Thranduil with gleaming blue eyes dancing amusedly. Thorin narrowed his eyes ready to reply but Thranduil turned around and started descending the stony stairs.

“Let me show you I can be deserving of such a honor.” The melodic voice of Thranduil floated in the empty hall, and Thorin wasn’t sure if there was sarcasm tingeing that voice or if there was some honesty behind it. Nevertheless, he followed for he wouldn’t allow the Elven-King to wander alone in the resting place of his ancestors.

Thranduil had accepted a long time ago his physical attraction to the Prince. He had accepted he lust after the strong body and strong yet handsome features of his face. He even accepted he would enjoy it greatly if Thorin would just speak for his deep voice felt like a touch of warm wine in the middle of a cold winter.

The Elven-King stopped as soon as he realized Thorin was beside him. Dangerously close to him.

But arousal had never felt like this. Like a tug on his chest area, a speeding of his heartbeat, sweaty hands, warm cheeks and a horde of butterflies inside his stomach. Thranduil was suddenly aware of those black eyes studying him closely, the warm breath from Thorin brushing against his own mouth.

What was happening to him? Thranduil tried to force himself to speak, to say something, to try and putt the Dwarf Prince off with one of his comments. Perhaps make him blush in shame as he had done so the first time they spoke? Or maybe make him stuttered a little liked he did the second time they met? Thranduil needed to do something because, so far, it was Thorin the one making Thranduil uneasy and not the other way around.

“Very well, _Lord Thranduil.”_ The Elven-king felt a shiver ran down his back at the closeness and that deep voice growling so close to his ear. It didn’t even matter to him that his title was said in such a sarcastic tone.

“We shall do as you so wish, my honored guest.” Thranduil stood a few seconds staring into space until he heard Thorin clearing his throat. He turned around and scowled at Thorin’s smirk.

“Very well, _Dwarf,_ do your worst.”

Thorin chuckled moving down the stairs with Thranduil close behind, “You really don’t want me to do my worst with you, _Elf_.”

Half an hour later they were deep into the mountain, Thranduil was starting to feel suffocate and foolish for even asking to be taken to such a dark and moist place. He leaned against the closest wall feeling the warm of stone under his fingerprints; caressing slowly the stone he advanced hearing the heavy footsteps of Thorin ahead of him instead of actually seeing the Dwarf. His eyes, like most people of his race, were sharper than any mortal’s eyes. He could look in the distance by day and night, in the light and darkness; however, this darkness was of a different nature and it was usually Dwarves the ones blessed with the eyesight for this blackness.

Thorin’s voice suddenly seemed very far away still mumbling one explanation or other. He had told multiple times to Thranduil to not separate himself from him from the tunnels inside the catacombs were like a labyrinth, one Thranduil didn’t wish to get lost in.

“Dwarves.” Mumbled Thranduil who thought coming all the way down to these dungeons wasn’t such a good idea. The thing was, he thought he could spend some time alone with the Dwarf Prince, perhaps take advantage of their loneliness and then…

After a minute or two he realized he was completely alone in the middle of a pitch darkness surrounding him. Thranduil stood up with as much dignity as he could muster. His hand waving around tentatively until it brush against the warm stone of a wall. He leaned against it and decided to not let this obvious prank get the best of him. He took a step forward and then another.

Thranduil huffed feeling offended at being ignored for so long and being abandoned in such a fashion. Did Prince Thorin merely hide his dislike for elves, Thranduil specially, better than his father? Perhaps this was his way to make fun of the Elves, getting their king lost and watching from a distance laughing with his friends.

As ridiculous as it may sound such childish thoughts torment a part of Thranduil’s mind while the other was working on a cold and calculating way of getting out of the darkness.

The Elven-King took another step forward and suddenly, with horror attached to his beautiful features he realized there was no more wall or floor under his feet. Thranduil felt emptiness at the pit of his abdomen, his thoughts going around with desperation as the realization that he would fall into the void and no one would know of his fate. He already fell his body give up and started descending until…

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his midsection stopping him from finding an early demise. Thranduil felt as a strong body pressed against him holding him between the precipice and the safety of the ground behind him. If Thorin so desires it he could let Thranduil fall and call the Elven-king’s downfall a simple ‘accident’.

Thranduil had no doubt the strong body pressed against his side and those arms securely wrapped around him were those of the young Prince. The Elven-King turned around to see those black orbs gleaming in the dark.

“ _Elves_.” The shadow mumbled mockingly. Thranduil could imagine the roll of his eyes and the smirk tugging at Thorin’s lips. The Elven-King scowled trying to put some distance between himself and Thorin but the arms held him firmly with a strength Thranduil didn’t thought Thorin could possess. “I told you to not leave my side and, what do you do? Wander off with a lost look on your face. My dear Elven-King, you do not do that in this place getting lost is a sure bet of you getting kill? If you can’t see anything and your only guide is ahead of yourself, you shouldn’t wander of.”

“Excuse me, _Prince Thorin,_ ” There was some venom in Thranduil’s voice, his erratic heartbeat was driving him crazy and the closeness of Thorin was making him dizzy. His mind was filled of how wonderful this Dwarf smell, how strong his hands felt against his body, how close he could feel his breath against his face. How that voice seemed to stir more than simple desire inside his chest.

Thranduil was, in one word, shaken. And it was all because of Thorin son of Thráin.

“It wasn’t my intention to get lost in these caverns.” Thranduil’s voice was firm and filled of anger, something that made Thorin chuckled. Offended, Thranduil pushed hard against Thorin, struggling against the Dwarf’s hold.

“I think you can let go of me now.” Thranduil felt the sudden urge to either hit Thorin or…or just put him closer. The Dwarf was laughing at him, in his face! How dare he!

“If I let you go, King Thranduil, you may fall to your death. Remember?”

Thranduil growled and this made Thorin chuckled, “Then why don’t you put me backwards so I can stop this…humiliation.”

“But what if…” Thranduil shivered well aware that Thorin could feel it, that he probably could hear his heart beating fast. “I simply don’t want to let go of you? What if I actually like this? The great Elven-King of Mirkwood under my power…it sounds entrancing, doesn’t it?”

Thranduil clenched his jaw keeping his lips tightly closed concerned that if he were to speak he would say something inappropriate.

There was heavy silence filling the emptiness of the hall, Thranduil knew there was nothingness ahead of him only the void he almost fell on. He also knew, and understood, the only thing holding him back from a certain death was Thorin. And his mind and heart knew, and desire, to just close the obvious gap between himself and the Dwarf Prince. His mind was reeling with the possibilities, with the plans he had laid down carefully to lure Thorin into his bed; to take what he desire and then walk away without a single ounce of regret.

This was the opportunity the Elven-King has been looking for since his eyes fell upon the figure of Thorin, son of Thráin. This was his chance…

After a few more seconds, nothing happened. They stood like that as if weighting the pros and cons, their faces merely inches apart and a growing tension putting their bodies closer.

The rough clash of lips caught Thranduil by surprised. The growing beard grinded against Thranduil’s smooth skin, lips demanding a response moving against Thranduil’s with mastery making the Elven-King submit to its demands. The Elf never protested instead he gave it all and kiss back with as much passion as he could muster, a part of him mortified when he felt Thorin’s smirk through the kiss, when he sensed Thorin’s strange victory to an unspoken contests as his body reached, and longed, for the Dwarf’s touch.

Thranduil had fallen into a different kind of void and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved from the fall.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Don’t you think, King Thranduil?” Thranduil gasped startled at the rude interruption of his thoughts. He turned around and realized with some mortification that King Thrór, his son and some of Thranduil’s people were glancing at him with curious and questioning glances.

The Elven-King straightened up, clearing his throat with his eyes focused ahead of him to the arena in which his son and Prince Thorin were getting ready.

“I apologize my mind drift momentarily away.” Commented Thranduil coldly, his voice masking his real thoughts. Thrór snorted and pat the Elven-King on his back, much to Thranduil’s annoyance.

“No to worry, no to worry!! After a death experience like the one you suffered I expect no more. Even from an Elf.””

“It was a luck my son save your life.” Continued Thráin his voice making everyone think he wasn’t pleased, at all, with his son’s intervention.

The personal guard of Thranduil scowled all glancing sideways to their King, Thranduil did nothing to show his emotions he merely kept his eyes ahead of them making some noise of agreement.

“Anyway, I was asking you my Lord, if you would care for a little wager for the next encounter.”

The Elven-King this time heard what Thrór said, his blue eyes turned sharply towards the King before he turned them back to the arena. He knew, without anyone telling him, that betting for the young Prince would be unwise and way too out of character for him. He leant back against the chair playing with the wine that was given to him as soon as he arrived.

 “Of course, all in the good name of our newest treaty.” Mumbled Thranduil waving away to his closest guard, Tauriel, to give away the amount of money needed.

Thrór celebrated loudly and wished King Thranduil good luck in the oncoming fight; for his son would need it since he was competing against Thorin, one of the best fighters among the Dwarves.

Legolas was to participate in some kind of game shared between the youngest and strongest Dwarves. Hand-to-hand combat to show physical power. Everything was allowed except killing your opponent or causing an irreparable damage to his person.

Thranduil’s eyes wandered around Thorin’s young form. From his naked torso to his face and baggy pants, the memory of the kiss still fresh on his mind. The fight started as soon as some bell rang.

It was getting hard for the Elven-King to keep his eyes on the fight and his son and not on Thorin. Whereas the Prince of the Elves was fluid in his movements, moving like the wind in a perfect pattern, Thorin moved with the decisiveness and strength of those of his race. He fought like the earth, strong and fast his movements harsh and filled with force; Thorin cornered Legolas who tried to evade the punches with fast evasion and to counterattack with quick succession of hits.

What Thranduil hate the most about the fight wasn’t that Legolas lost to Thorin, or that Thrór and specially Thráin were celebrating out loud their victory. What Thranduil hated was the wave of overprotectiveness that came onto him to go down and help clean the blood from Thorin’s eyebrow. The desire to touch that body and received a thankful smile in return. What he really hated was the fact he longed to feel Thorin’s lips against his once more.

The rest of the afternoon the Elven-King had to suffer in silence being ignored by Thorin who didn’t even glance at him once. That same night, lying on the bed, Thranduil realized he was in deep trouble.

  
Love, for elves, has always seemed curse with some kind of misfortune. But, to love someone outside his people, seemed to be a declaration of impossible deeds and pain without barriers.

* * *

* * *

* * *

If you were to ask him when he had his heart broken the first time, he would tell you it was when all the centuries had gone by and Arda seemed at (a fragile) peace.

His visits to Erebor continued for quite some time and what he looked forward to were his (not so secret) meetings with Thorin. After that initial kiss nothing was discussed or repeated between them. With a wry smiled tugging at his lips Thranduil realized it wasn’t even his physical desired towards Thorin what kept him in Erebor. It was his company and the pleasure of hearing his voice.

Thranduil had tortured himself every night ever since the kiss in the dark, thinking about the whys thinking about the possibilities and the things left unsaid. For they never spoke of the kiss and Thranduil felt incapable of bringing up the subject for his pride didn’t allow him to bend himself to Thorin. If there was something there, obviously by the tension between elf and dwarf, it should be the Prince and not the King the first one to speak.

But the conversation never came and time passed with Thranduil sharing what time he had with Thorin never acknowledging his growing affections for him. He always thought he would have time.

Then, Smaug came.

By the time Thranduil and the rest of his men arrived it was too late. Erebor had been destroyed, Esgaroth was in ruins and men and dwarves were screaming and running. Some hurt, some mutilated, some carrying their dead.

Thranduil saw him before he did.

Thorin was carrying his grandfather; he turned around and waved his arms asking for help. Thranduil’s blue eyes found Thorin’s black ones. But the Elven-King knew he couldn’t help, he couldn’t risk his people, his kingdom to the wrath of the dragon. He saw as the desperation and hope in those black eyes left and was replaced by disbelief and anger.

Thranduil felt as something inside him crashed. It physically pained him to not be of any help to Thorin. He longed to wrap his arms around the Dwarf in comfort but…tilting his head and lowering his eyes, Thranduil turned around.

  
Someday, perhaps when Thorin became a King, a Captain, and a leader he would understand why Thranduil could not help. Maybe, that day, he would forgive Thranduil for what seemed as a betrayal.

* * *

* * *

* * *

If you were to ask him when he had lost any hope and feel real desperation, he would tell you it was the moment he saw Thorin, now Oakenshield, again.

He sat, tall and proud on his throne, head tilted to one side and cold eyes studying the disheveled form of Thorin Oakenshield. The years in exile didn’t treat Thorin well. His face was marked with the hardness of tumultuous trials; his eyes wore the mark of pain, sadness and humiliation he had lived since that fatidic day.

And yet, even with the evidence of less fortuitous life, Thorin son of Thráin stood proudly glaring with cold hatred at Thranduil.

The Elven-King held Thorin’s gaze with a hint of amusement and curiosity; however, if he were to be honest, his heart was beating fast almost trying to get out of his chest. This was the first time he saw Thorin after Smaug’s attack. And, after all this time, whatever feelings he may have harbored for the Dwarf Prince came with a vengeance making his resolved waver. He thought it had been a dream, that his feelings for the Prince were a mere whim…It didn’t matter how many dreamless nights he spent thinking about the old days in Erebor. It didn’t matter he usually gather some information about Thorin from travelers or messenger from Lothlórien and Imladris.

And, even after all this time, Thorin still looked as desirable as he did the first time Thranduil saw him.

“Tell me, _Lord Thranduil_ ,” Thorin started with as much venom and hatred as he could muster in each one of his words. The elves around the throne tensed up, scowling at the Dwarf but Thranduil observed unaffected by everything. “Why have you brought me here in chains and against my will? I thought you declare yourself a friend of my people a long time ago.”

Thranduil leant closer arching a single, elegant eyebrow with a twitched of his lips. “That is correct. A long time ago I declare my friendship to the King Under the Mountain.”

Thorin clenched his fists holding his shoulders back tensing his muscles. His black eyes seemed to pierce Thranduil with a fire the Elven-King wasn’t sure it would be wise to touch.

“Today I speak to you, Thorin son of Thráin, as a trespasser of my land and a disturber of our festivities.” Thranduil rested his back against his throne. “You were the first one to attack us in the middle of the forest, it is only right we defend ourselves.”

“I didn’t attack you. But of course, I cannot expect anything else from your _kind_.” Thorin spat the word letting his eyes wandered around the room then concentrating it on Thranduil once more. “You are full of hidden and dark intensions, betrayal and deceit. You and your people are no better than Smaug and I dare say you probably are a race born out of the darkness of ambition and arrogance.”

“So much bitterness in your voice, Thorin Oakenshield.” Replied Thranduil with an icy tone, he wanted to say more, he wanted to make Thorin understand that what he was saying actually hurt. But instead, the Elven-King tilted his head to the right and asked in a silken voice.

“Tell me; what were you and your people doing in the forest?” Thorin set his jaw in a stubborn expression.

“We were starve and looking for help.”

“No, that was not it. You are here for a reason, tell me.” Thorin cleared his face of any emotion before answering in the same tone of voice.

“We were starved and looking for help.” There was silence and then, as an afterthought. “Of course, if we had known it was elves what we saw we would have never approached for we know how expensive their help is.”

Thranduil wanted to scream in frustration. Didn’t Thorin see the Elven-King was trying to give him a chance for a warm bed and warm food? Didn’t Thorin realize if he keep this up Thranduil would have to send him to jail? But, Thorin had in him the stubbornness of his people and the proudness of his kings. He wouldn’t relinquish even if his life depend on it. Which this was the case.

“I will ask one more time, Thorin Oakenshield, I advised you to think carefully your answer.” Thranduil took a deep breath his eyes flaming angrily, trying to make Thorin understand the urgency of his question. “What brought you into the forest?”

Thorin played with the idea of saying something equally impertinent but decided against it. He felt tired and he was really hungry and thirsty and the last of his energy had gone away after he saw the betrayer of his people. Thorin didn’t have it in him to keep fighting for that day; still it didn’t mean he would give Thranduil the satisfaction of an answer.

Straightening himself a little, Thorin lifted his chin in defiance his black orbs firmly placed on the Elven-King. After the silence prolong more than necessary, Thranduil waved his hand.

“Very well!” He said with anger tingeing his voice.  “Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years.”

  
The guards did as told and Thranduil stayed were he was looking into the space Thorin had occupied moments ago.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Almost two weeks passed since Thranduil had captured Thorin and his companions. There wasn’t a single night in which he wasn’t tormented by thoughts of Thorin, by the memories of the prince’s face and voice. The Elven-King could not wait any longer and took the chance to approach the source of his torment when his people were enjoying the festivities.

Thranduil stood at the entrance of the cave leading to Thorin’s private cell. The Elven-King could make the muffle sounds of the party going on the ground floor, he made sure before coming down to the caves that every single of his subjects were enjoying the party with wine going left and right.

He needed to speak with Thorin but any conversation the King held with Thorin must be a private one.

However, now that he was standing so close to the object of his thoughts and affections he hesitated. If their meeting in the Throne Room was any indication, Thranduil had to guess the one inside a jail cell would not be a pleasant one. Thranduil lowered his blue eyes feeling the strange weight on his heart, the fluttering of butterflies on his stomach and the pull he felt towards Thorin.

He had spent the last few days tossing around on his bed, his mind tormenting him with images of the Dwarf Prince. Every time he closed his eyes Thorin Oakenshield would be there tormenting him with his rough manners, his dark eyes and the intensity of his voice.

Now that Thranduil had him so close he couldn’t miss this chance. He had to do something before his heart and soul finally give in desperation.

The sounds of the party soon die to give way to a complete silence. The cave was slightly light by torches on the wall, but their light wasn’t strong enough to actually give some kind of illumination to the hall. Thranduil knew Thorin was resting in the last cell, he approached the wooden door and with a mask of indifference he opened the door.

The elf’s eyes wandered around the darkened room until they fell upon the sleeping form of Thorin. Thranduil narrowed his eyes unsure of his assertion for Thorin’s face was facing the wall. The Elven-King turned around making sure there was no one in the hall before he entered the cell. He walked silently to the resting form of Thorin leaning over to gauge Thorin’s real state.

The Dwarf had his eyes close, his face set in a relaxed expression and his chest moved evenly with each breath he took. Thranduil stood beside him, proud and elegant; he lowered his gaze to take in the form of the sleeping Prince.

Even now, Thranduil could not help but think of the beauty of the male lying on the floor. He could not help but admire the maturity in his features, the sharpness of his jaw, and the strength behind his posture. Thranduil sighed as he realized being down in the dungeons was a really bad idea and he should go upstairs before anyone would notice his absence.

But he stood there watching Thorin asleep and, before he knew it, he was kneeling beside the Prince. A tentative hand stretched out, hesitant at first, but bold in his attempts to create contact between his skin and that of Thorin.

His knuckles brushed lightly against Thorin’s warm cheek, Thranduil felt like a fool for trembling like a youngster as his hand finally made contact with the object of his desire.

Thranduil gulped as his movements became intrepid and his body sought closeness. The Elven-King was so immersed in his thoughts and the form in front of him he was caught by surprised when a strong hand closed around his wrist and black orbs pierced him to the spot.

“Do you think it wise, my Lord, to come to your prisoner without a guard to protect you?”

The tone was mocking; the sneer that accompanied told Thranduil Thorin had not been as asleep as he thought initially. The Elven-King felt shame rise on his face, slowly covering his pale cheeks at being discovered in such an unfitting position. He tried to take his hand away but the hold Thorin had on him was strong, the Dwarf smirked enjoying the uneasiness he felt coming from Thranduil. It wasn’t a common occurrence to see the Elven-King so shaken, so lost in his own thoughts and sensations.

Thorin would take advantage of the opportunity that presented itself to him. He would take what he desired a long time ago and then he would break it without a single ounce of mercy.

Both, Elf and Dwarf, looked at each other gauging for the smallest of reactions to try and get the upper hand. By now, Thranduil had recovered some sense and had masked his features with a cold and indifferent gesture. His eyes, glazing with icy indifference, pierced at Thorin and his hand moved abruptly putting Thorin up and closer to Thranduil’s face.

“I do not need a guard to deal with you, Thorin Oakenshield. I have had deal with your kind for centuries and I have yet to feel myself in danger around them.”

It happened too fast for Thranduil to do anything.

Thorin had been waiting to have the Elven-King on his knees for far too long, the hand holding Thranduil’s wrist tightened its hold making the King winced in obvious pain. Thorin was breathing hard, his left hand grabbing Thranduil by his golden hair and pulling his head backwards. Thranduil’s eyes opened wide in shock, his lips opening slightly as he felt the warm contact of Thorin’s breath against his face.

The Dwarven Prince twisted his hand turning Thranduil’s wrist into an uncomfortable position, this time around Thranduil voiced his discomfort an act that brought a smirk to Thorin’s face. For his part Thranduil was trying really hard to control his breathing and the beating of his heart. He tried to recover the control of the situation, to use his strength to free himself from Thorin’s grasp but he found himself unable to as Thorin neared him and all Thranduil could see was the face that had hunted his dreams for far too long.

“I have seen your beauty under many lights…” The deep, melodic voice of Thorin stirred desire inside Thranduil. His body heated and his heart fluttered as Thorin leaned in to whisper in his ear. “…But, I have to confess to you I have preference for the fear reflected in your eyes when you know danger beyond your comprehension is near. Like that time I save you from a certain death.”

In all this time Thranduil had never played with the idea that maybe Thorin may felt the same way. Thranduil was certain that, at some point, the dwarf had felt lust the same way Thranduil had lusted after him. But, beyond the carnal desire? He never dared to give himself treacherous hope. His heart could simple not take it.

But, could it be possible that he had been wrong? That, perhaps all the misunderstandings, all the secret glances, all the hurt and hatred in Thorin’s eyes were the result of a deep betrayal? Of a broken heart after Thranduil denied any form of help?

This was the reason why his eyes filled with hope and caution, he gasped when he felt lips and beard brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck. The hand holding his head pushed hard, tilting his head to one side and giving access to his elegant neck.

Thranduil heard himself moan when Thorin’s mouth found his pulse point sucking lightly at first and increasing the suction gradually. The elf’s free hand found their way to Thorin’s clothes grabbing him with force putting him closer while Thorin feast on Thranduil’s exposed neck.

“How long have you desire this, King of the Elves? How many sleepless nights with my face invading your thoughts as you pleasure yourself?”

Thranduil gasped feeling a sudden burn on his cheeks embarrassment taking over his sudden desire. Thorin smirked his eyes gleaming with merriment at having undisclosed one of the Elven-King’s secrets.

“Answer me.” Thorin’s voice was low and dangerous his hand twisting the elf’s wrist.

“I…I don’t know what are you talking about.” There was defiance on the Elf’s eyes; he set his jaw in a stubborn and defiant gesture. “Let me go and your punishment won’t be so severe.”

“It is not me the one on my knees, Thranduil. Perhaps, you should evaluate your threats.” Replied Thorin growling at the King, Thranduil gave Thorin a withering look struggling against the dwarf’s hold.

Without so much of a resistance, Thorin pulled Thranduil’s arm making the elf struggled only to let go of Thranduil’s wrist and making the elf lost his balance. Thranduil ended up on the floor, clenching his fist with his head lowered.  Thorin circled the Elven-King his eyes never leaving the sight of a humiliate Thranduil on the floor, hair disheveled, red cheeks and harsh breathing.

Thranduil chastised himself at his own weakness, at how low he had fallen, how much he had allowed Thorin to see and take from him.

“I dreamt about you. Every single night since the day you paid tribute to my grandfather.”

Thranduil’s head shoot up sharp eyes strained on Thorin, disbelief evident in his eyes.

“Do not mock me Dwarf, for I have little patience for impertinence such as this.” Thranduil was still on the floor, one knee on the ground and the other slightly bend making his stance like a respectful kneeling in front of a King.

Thorin approached the Elven-King taking the advantage this position gave to his own height.

“I do no mock _me_ , Thranduil.” Whatever sense of formality Thorin had in him was soon forgotten as he eyed the Elven-King with hunger in his eyes. “My words are not as treacherous as yours might be.”

The words stroke a sour memory in Thranduil’s mind, still Thranduil knew what he did so many years ago was the right decision. He couldn’t sacrifice his people, his kingdom for the happiness of his heart. The Elven-King defied Thorin’s stare with one of his own, his words trying to reach the elf.

“I have hoped that once you become a fine leader and a Captain of your people you would understand the decisions behind my acts.”

“Treason is never easily understood.” Spat Thorin approaching Thranduil with firm strides. “And yet…I may feel incline to forgive you if you give to me what the both of us desire.”

“And what would that be?” Thorin raised an eyebrow grabbing Thranduil by his hair he crashed his lips against his.

The kiss was like anything Thranduil had experienced in his life. He had kissed many before, female and male, but the kisses between elves possess a different fire, a different passion that the one he was receiving from his prisoner. There were many emotions behind the bruising kiss, Thranduil tried to take over but Thorin remained impassive as he force the Elf’s mouth open and allowed his tongue entrance to taste the fine wine the Elven-King had enjoyed early that evening.

“I will possess you, Thranduil. I will make you mine the way I should have that time we went to my forefather’s tombs.” Thranduil almost whimpered when those lips parted from his and that deep voice reached his ears. There was hunger in Thorin’s eyes and he was looking commandingly at Thranduil who, by now, was trembling under Thorin’s grasp.

Thranduil’s only answer was to put Thorin closer for another bruising kiss. This was what he had longed for since he met Thorin. This was the only confirmation he needed to give his soul to the Dwarven Prince in front of him.

Thorin moved his mouth tentatively nibbling on Thranduil’s sensitive skin and making his way towards his neck. Thorin smirked when he saw the red mark he had placed early on and proceeded to make sure the mark would not leave the Elven-King’s skin any time soon.

The Dwarf’s hand moved to the front when in a single pulled he ripped open Thranduil’s clothing leaving uncovered his board chest. Thranduil let out a soft moan feeling Thorin insistent kisses covering his neck and collarbone. The Prince pushed forward laying Thranduil’ on the cold, stony ground of the prison cell; the calloused fingertips tracing small patterns on the naked skin from Thranduil’s chest and abdomen. His hands were soothing and gentle, they mapped out Thranduil’s form while Thorin’s mouth taste and marked the Elven-King moving lowered and lower.

Thranduil could not think straight, he was trying to keep his breathing under control while his lips allowed sounds of pleasure. His eyes rolling back every time Thorin seemed to find a particular sensitive spot, a place he didn’t know it could be that sensitive. This was something Thranduil had dreamt of for so long that his body was simply overload with sensations, all of them magnified by the feelings he harbor for Thorin.

Sex to elves had always meant something more, a commitment, enjoyable and quite intimate. Thranduil only hoped it was the same for Dwarves for this was something he ignored completely.

Soon enough, whatever thoughts of hope or hesitance may had invaded the Elven-King’s mind were forgotten as Thorin seized his leggings leaving Thranduil exposed to the badly light cell and the coldness of the room.

Thranduil turned his blue eyes to Thorin who was devouring every single inch of expose skin with his eyes. Thranduil was conscious about his lack of clothing and how exposed he was to the Dwarf’s eyes. With courage he sat up to captured Thorin’s lips with his once more.

Thranduil guided the movements of the lips this time around; he pulled Thorin closer wandering hands opening the royal blue clothing covering Thorin’s body. His movements were graceful and controlled whereas Thorin had been urgent and demanding.

The tension built up gradually with Thranduil teasing the expose skin of Thorin with his own mouth. His tongue mapping out the roughness of the skin, the scars of past battles, past hurts that never really left. Thorin gasped in surprised at how tender, yet decisive, was Thranduil with his caresses. He touched sending jolts of electricity all through Thorin’s body, making his blood boil and his groin burnt with need.

The burning desire between both of them increased and soon enough Thranduil let out a cry of surprised and was once again on his back with Thorin hovering above him. The Prince smirked his hand caressing Thranduil’s cheek tenderly moments before their mouths met in another, more sensual kiss.

Thranduil would remember the encounter vividly in his mind. He would remember the cold contact of stone and the hardness of the ground under him. He would remember Thorin’s fingers probing around his body teasing his hardness causing delicious sensations that sent Thranduil in a fit of moans. Thranduil would forever imprint in his mind the moment he felt Thorin entered him. It hadn’t been soft or slow; it had been hard and fast and Thranduil remembered his whimpers of pain but also the comforting gesture from Thorin.

He suffered under the mastery of Thorin’s thrusts; the Dwarven Prince entered Thranduil over and over again building a constant rhythm while nibbling and biting down on Thranduil’s neck and collarbone.

Thranduil didn’t know how much time passed since he had entered Thorin’s cell, he could only speak Thorin’s name and enjoyed the pleasure the Dwarf was giving to him.

Thorin was so closed to his own completion, his hand moved to grasp Thranduil’s erection, his head tilted to the side so his voice would reach Thranduil the moment he started stroking the elf.

“You are mine from now on. No one would ever measure, no one would be allowed to touch you the way I am doing right now.” Each word was emphasized by a thrust and stroke, Thranduil’s eyes rolled back on his head, his lips parting to let out a guttural groan.

“No one, _Meleth nín.”_ Thranduil replied holding onto Thorin while the Dwarf entered him over and over, insistent and demanding.

“You belong to me.”

The deep, velvety voice of Thorin and that declaration of possessiveness was all Thranduil needed to reach his climax. Thorin grunted giving one last thrust, his head falling on top of Thranduil’s chest as both of them remained joined recovering their breaths.

Not a word was spoken and, but the time Thorin had recovered Thranduil had fallen asleep. Strange as it was for the ground was uncomfortably hard and cold, Thranduil had not been sleeping well the last days and now he had finally found peace and rest.

Thorin watched the peaceful expression in that soft face; his fingertips outlined Thranduil’s jaw while his mind remembered the hurt and rancor he felt towards the Elven-King. He never forgot the treason, never forgot when the elf turned his back on him and his people. And still…

There was some noise down the hall. Thorin shoot his head up frowning lightly as he remembered the burglar would be approaching his cell any time soon. Picking Thranduil up, Thorin placed it on the small cot in the corner putting over the naked form his traveling cloak.

Thorin exited the cell leaving the door half closed and started making his way to the stairs when the small figured of the burglar appeared out of nowhere.

“How did you…” Started Bilbo blinking confusedly at Thorin. Bilbo then sent a curious look at the Dwarf who was still disheveled, with a strange look on his face.

  
“Luck.” Was all Thorin said, the Prince turned his eyes to Bilbo and silenced him before he could speak. “Let’s go find the others and hear your plan to get us out of here.”

By the time Thranduil woke up he realized what ha happened. Shame, anger and hurt filled his heart, a broken heart that suddenly understood the anguish of betrayal. Thranduil had never cried, he had never felt the need to but, when a single tear rolled down his cheek he understood, finally, the deepest of his feelings for Thorin.

Love was certainly a cursed feeling for Elves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is just waiting...Thorin is just proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be longer than I expected. The story is going to be three parts so enjoy this one and don't forget to comment!

 

 

Thorin had been right.

King Thranduil had been ruined for anyone else after his intimated encounter with the Dwarf King.

Other hands felt cold, other kisses felt like sand on a thirsty throat, other voices sounded plain and without passion. Thranduil had reached a level of desperation in which he would seek out the company of dark-haired males shorter than him, with deep voices and calloused fingertips. And still, he wasn’t satisfied and the void inside his heart grew by the day consuming the always ethereal light of the Elves in him.

The Elven-King realized, with mortification and anger, that Thorin had imprinted on him a mark of ownership and emotions enhanced by Thranduil’s own feelings towards the Dwarven King. And even in his own feelings of infatuation, Thranduil couldn’t help but feel rancor towards his tormentor for taking any sense of sanity from his mind.

Thrandul watched out of the window of his personal chamber. His fingertips caressing the soft surface of the wall, his head tilted to one side with his blue eyes focused on the river under his window. The river was pouring out with violence roaring into the solitary valley surrounding the Elven-King’s domain; the Elven-King was in deep thought with memories of what had happened between him and Thorin flowing in his mind like the river under his sight.

The images were intense as had been they encounter and Thranduil couldn't help the ache in his heart at the memories of what could have been. He cursed the moment his eyes fell upon the figure of Thorin Oakenshield and cursed his own inability to feel anything but love for the damned Dwarf.

There was a knock on his door but Thranduil remained impassive not paying attention to whoever was behind the door. The Elven-King heard the second knock and the door being opened. He didn’t need to turn around to know his son was there, watching him with a scowl and curious eyes.

“Father?” Thranduil leaned his head slightly to observe Legolas out of the corner of his eyes. Legolas hesitated for a moment wondering, not for the first time, just what happened to Thranduil to keep him in such a mood.

“What is it?” Thranduil asked when Legolas seemed to stay silently contemplating the King.

“An emissary from Erebor has arrived. He asked for an audience with you.”

Thranduil turned around to face his son startled by the news. Legolas flashed Thranduil a quick glance and the Elven Prince had to gather all the self-control he was capable of to not ask his father about his mood.

Ever since the Dwarves had escape and the Battle of the Five Armies had happened Thranduil had behaved differently. First, it was the strange mark on his neck; the one Legolas had a brief chance of seeing before departing to meet Thorin and Company at the doors of a now free Erebor. Legolas wondered for a long time how did it end there? How did Thranduil hurt himself? Although, if Legolas were to be honest with himself, he knew the red mark on is father’s neck was a sign of possession, of unrestrained passion. Just, who had been sharing his father’s bed and what hold had this person on the King’s heart for making him look undone?

Legolas observed the place were the mark used to be for a moment and Thranduil observed his son realizing he had suddenly fallen into an uncomfortable silence. He must look like a stranger to Legolas who was unaccustomed to seeing the now withering King in such a pathetic light. Thranduil really ought to stop thinking about Thorin for the Dwarf was a sure way to drive himself mad.

 “Well? What it is so important that requires my presence?” Thranduil asked impatiently, Legolas cleared his throat before speaking again.

“He didn’t tell, Father. Apparently, he has a message from King Thorin to be delivered to you and only you.” The Elven-King felt his heart stop for a moment, his back tensing slightly but otherwise he tried to control his own reactions. Legolas glanced at his father before continuing.

“He didn’t come alone, of course. His companion is an exhibit of the Dwarves good intentions.” The last part was said with humor tingeing Legola’s voice, Thranduil had to lift a single eyebrow before Legolas finished his report. “The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins has come as well. Apparently the King has taken a _liking_ to the Halfling and is not at all comfortable to seeing him part. But he has made an exception to let him come here.”

Thranduil froze on the spot his blue eyes glaring coldly at the floor while his son spoke with laughter in his voice. Legolas never noticed how tensed or affected was Thranduil by the news and continued speaking of what little he could get from the Dwarf and Bilbo.

“What should I tell the Emissary, Father?” Legolas finally asked. Thranduil returned his attention to his window undecided. What would Thorin want from him? Whatever he could take from Thranduil Thorin already have. There was nothing else Thranduil could give Thorin unless the King Under the Mountain was decided to destroy what little sanity Thranduil still had.

“Take them to my private study; I shall meet them there in a moment. Bring them food and drinks and prepare the guest rooms for them.”

Legolas bowed his head, hesitating with his eyes on his father’s back. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t dare to speak. After a minute of standing there Legolas finally turned around and went away.

Thranduil let out a sigh pinching the bride of his nose while closing his eyes. He felt tired, weary and his body ached. The Elven-King moved to the closest chair and fell into it. The only thing he wanted was to forget and heal. He wanted to erase from his mind, body and heart the warm touches, the fresh kisses and the brief moment in which he finally felt something resembling happiness.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Put that down!” The whisper came from Bofur who glanced at the door then back at Bilbo. The Hobbit waved his hand to Bofur while grabbing with the other a book with a splendid cover and elvish characters on it.

“Didn’t you learn anything from the library back at Erebor?” Asked Bofur again approaching Bilbo who sent curious glances to the bookshelf while opening the book on his hands.

“This is different. These books look as if someone actually reads them. Besides, I didn’t know the book in the library of Erebor was going to dissolve in my hands.”

Bofur snorted for he remembered Ori going nuts over the mistreatment of the book. Bilbo apologized several times until Ori told him it had been an accident, the books had spent lots of years in that room without being touched or read so it was only natural. Since that day Ori had not allowed anyone else near the library until he was sure no more accidents were to occur.

“Besides, who knows? Maybe King Thranduil has a copy of the book and we can ask him if he wouldn’t mind us borrowing it.”

“If you promised to not let anything happen to it I may consider _you_ to borrow it.” Bofur and Bilbo turned around to see Thranduil standing at the door.

“Oh, sorry!” Bilbo bowed his head and put the book back where it belong, Thranduil’s lips curled up his eyes examining the Hobbit. “I…uh…King Thranduil.”

Bilbo bowed again in the form of a greeting, Bofur stood up and bowed awkwardly his eyes going from Bilbo to Thranduil.

“Master Baggins, Master Dwarf. My son tells me you have a message for me.” Thranduil entered the room with delicate yet firm strides. Behind the King a few Elves followed him placing a table near the chair Bofur was sitting on. Bilbo saw as food and drinks were placed on the table and a pillow was brought to him so he could sit around the table.

“Please, you must be hungry and thirsty after the journey.” Thranduil indicated the chairs and table full of food. Bofur eyed the whole scene suspiciously, there was a frown upon his face but Bilbo was actually grateful. He hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning and was famished.

“Thank you, King Thranduil. You are very kind.”

“At least with better manners than last time.” Mumbled Bofur, Bilbo looked horrified at his friend and then at Thranduil but the King had a faraway look on his face and didn’t seem to have heard what Bofur said.

Bilbo glanced curiously at the King. He seemed paler and tired, a look Bilbo would never associated to Elves. The Elven-King turned his head to one side and found himself looking at Bilbo. The Hobbit suddenly realized he had been observing the Elf King and felt a blush growing on his cheeks.

“Uh, this is nice.” Bilbo mumbled to which Thranduil lifted an eyebrow partially amused by the hobbit’s antics.

“I am very pleased you like it.” Thranduil then grabbed a golden cup drinking before turning his attention to Bofur. “Your rooms had been arranged for you to stay the night.”

Bofur nodded and Bilbo kicked him under the table. Bofur turned his eyes to Bilbo who opened his wide indicating with his head the King. Bofur growled lowly and then turned his eyes to Thranduil with a gruffly expression.

“Thank you, King Thranduil. You are very kind.”  Thranduil smirked when he realized it was Bilbo the one inciting the words on the Dwarf. Bofur narrowed his eyes but stopped as soon as he realized Bilbo was glaring at him. “This food is extraordinary and your kindness is very much appreciated.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes but Thranduil merely bowed his head dismissively. Bilbo didn’t quite understand such a grudge from Bofur’s part, even after the Elven-King had helped in the Battle, had saved Kili, Fili and Thorin and then proceeded to help Thorin in recovery for his injuries. For Thranduil this wasn’t new and actually didn’t affect him much, the Elven-King drank from his cup again before filling it with more of his wine.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Bilbo used the silence to finish his meal with Bofur sending suspicious glare to the food every time he was about to consume them.

The silence extended for far too long making Bilbo fidgeted once he realized there was no more food to distract himself with. Bofur at least let go of his plate and stretched his hand to grab the closest cup, it was then when a group of Elves entered the room cleaning everything up before leaving the Dwarf, the Hobbit and their King alone.

“It has been nine months since the Battle of the Five Armies and since I last heard from the King Under the Mountain,” Thranduil started talking lazily, his blue eyes gleaming in the room. Bofur glanced at Bilbo who seemed to be pretty interested on the table in front of him. “Tell me, Master Dwarf, what is that urgent message you couldn’t impart to my son, the Prince of Mirkwood?”

That’s exactly what Bilbo had been wondering since they arrived to Mirkwood. He knew Thorin had asked them to come to the Elven-King’s palace because he was _‘in need of a meeting to forge a new alliance with the Elves.’_ However, if Bilbo were to be honest, the face Thorin was making when he said those words were anything but friendly and, if he didn’t knew better, Bilbo would think Thorin was actually plotting a great disaster. But perhaps Bilbo’s opinion had been obscured by the odd behaviour of his friend, Thorin haven’t been the same since the fight. Even before that, the Dwarven King had started behaving strangely.

Bofur cleared his throat straightened up the luxurious red cloak he wore for the meeting; ever since the Dwarves had recovered Erebor each and every member of the company now shared the highest honour in the Dwarven City. Bilbo smiled softly at Bofur who looked over at Thranduil with all the seriousness he could show looking very much like the emissary and friend of the King under the Mountain.

“Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain sends his greetings to you, King Thranduil and demands an immediate meeting between you and King Thorin to discuss the matter of past alliance and new ones.” Finished Bofur with a well-rehearsed speech eying the Elven-King from time to time; however, the tone and words didn’t seem to be correct for, as Bilbo noticed the coldness behind Thranduil’s gaze, to _demand_ a King from another Kingdom to do something didn’t sound all that wise.

_That’s why they send me._ Bilbo thought dryly at the lack of tact from Bofur, he winced when he noticed the enraged look on Thranduil who was soon masked under an icy glare.

_Well, at least Bofur didn’t use all the colourful language Thorin used._

“Who is the King under the Mountain to believe he can command me to do what he wants?” The voice was clear and powerful, filled with a coldness that sent a shiver of fear to Bilbo’s back. Bofur blinked looking over at Bilbo then at the King. Apparently he wasn’t expecting this answer.

 “While I agree something must be done for the relationships of our Kingdoms to improve, I will not submit to what _King Thorin_ desires.”

“King Thorin seemed to think you would agree to go as soon as we unclosed his message.” Replied Bofur blinking confusedly. “The King seemed to think you would be _pleased…”_

“I apologize, King Thranduil” Replied Bilbo saving Bofur before he would say anything else. “I think we have expressed the message in the wrong way.”

 “Then, explain for you are guests in my palace but I am not beyond showing you the same courtesy I showed Dwarves the last time they were here.”

Bofur narrowed his eyes opening his mouth only to be silenced by Bilbo. Thranduil felt the emotions he had been keeping inside ready to explode. That Thorin actually dared to…to ask for his presence as if he was nothing more than a subject of his! How much mockery would the so called King inflicted on Thranduil? How much Thranduil’s heart must suffer the indifference and the unrequired feelings?

“Thorin…I mean, King Thorin,” Thranduil didn’t feel any better at the familiarity the Hobbit so obviously held to Thorin and the words of his son reached the back of his mind. ‘ _King Thorin doesn’t seem keen on seei_ ng the Hobbit part from his side.’

“King Thorin thinks it is time to, once again, established a relationship with the Elves of Mirkwood.” Said Bilbo speaking clearly trying to remember what Balin actually told him to tell the Elven-King instead of following the strangest words of Thorin. Whatever was happening to Thorin, Balin never actually said but Bilbo would try to help his friends in any way he could. So, he complied.

Thranduil rested his head on the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the armrest of his chair. His eyes turned to Bilbo and then to Bofur before looking away. To see Thorin again would be unwise and Thranduil knew he wasn’t ready to see his tormentor, if he was honest with himself, he would never be ready to see him again.

“Now that his kingdom is starting to re-build again he invites you to Erebor to speak of your future together.” Bilbo took a deep breath and continued. “What he means, even if he didn’t have the right words to express it, is that this old quarrel must be finished and a new alliance of friendship should be forge between Dwarves and elves.”

Sharp blue eyes lifted to meet those of Bilbo, for a long moment the King examined Bilbo’s eyes and gauged his intentions. He may not be as adept as Lady Galadriel to read the intentions of mortals, but he hadn’t been a King and a Sindar for this long without learning a few things. The words the Hobbit chose struck something inside Thranduil’s heart. It was like a knife twisting inside his heart slowly and painfully and yet, Thranduil wanted to smash something at the longing lingering at the back of his mind. ‘ _To speak of your future together.’_

How ironic for Bilbo to use those words; but, in the end, the Hobbit’s words were just that: words.

Thranduil smiled bitterly, feeling like a fool for allowing hope into his heart only to be shattered in a second.

“That’s what I was saying!” Replied Bofur to Bilbo trying to make it sound like a whisper but failing to do so. Bilbo rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“No, that wasn’t what you were saying.” He said with as much patience as he could muster. Bilbo’s attention went back to Thranduil who had lowered his face.

The Dwarf and Hobbit were here to invite Thranduil to Erebor to start the customary negotiations with neighbouring kingdoms. The Elves of the forest of Mirkwood would not be ignored and, as such, some kind of alliance or treaty must be drawn. This was nothing more than a formality and Thranduil cursed himself for daring hope to reach his heart.

“It sounds reasonable.” Said Thranduil after a moment. “Is there anything else you wish to say?”

Bofur cleared his throat and open his bag putting a middle size box from it. It was made of oak, paint with earthy tones and a rune with what Thranduil interpreted Khuzdûl. Thranduil frowned tilting his head confused when Bofur present the Elven-King with the box.

“King Thorin wants me to make sure you received this personally. He also wanted me to tell you that…” Bofur trailed off glancing at Bilbo who merely shrugged; Thranduil could feel his heart trying to escape his chest. “…This is a sign of good will and a form of personal invitation since it was impossible for him to come invited personally.”

The Elven-King was suddenly fearful of grabbing the box and discovering what may be inside. He waved his head to indicate Bofur he could leave the box on the table.

“I shall thank King Thorin then, for this thoughtful gift.” Thranduil’s voice sound strange to him, Bofur glanced at Bilbo but the Hobbit merely shrugged again. Bofur cleared his throat once again and turned his attention to the Elven-King.

“King Thorin seemed adamant for me to tell you that you know what the significance behind the gift is.” Thranduil tilted his head, arching an eyebrow questioningly. “You have, after all, given one yourself with the same purpose.”

Thranduil suddenly felt confused and eager to see what was behind the box. He didn’t get the whole significance behind Throin’s words but something told him once he observed the gift he would understand.

“Very well, I will have it present.” Thranduil caressed the top of the box with delicate fingers and, it didn’t escape Bilbo’s attention the fondness to which the Elven-King had observed the gift.

“No, sir. That was all.”

“Very well, then you will find a guard outside the door, he would lead you to your rooms for the night.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Both Bilbo and Bofur bowed before the elf King.

“Also, I will make quick arrangements for the departure tomorrow. I see no reason to halter the negotiations with Erebor.”

Bofur was surprised and his face showed us much, “Thank you, King Thranduil. This would certainly be good news.”

“Of course, Legolas, my son, would go in my stead and I hope the alliance would be of mutual benefit for both our kingdoms.”

Thranduil turned his back to the guests leaving a slightly panic Bofur and a conflictive Bilbo to make their way out of the room. Bofur turned to Bilbo seeking council but, while Bilbo glanced at Thranduil and remembered the King’s physical state and strange behaviour the Hobbit decided against any more conversations.

“But…”Bofur started Bilbo shook his head and grabbed the Dwarf’s hand pulling him away from the room.

Thranduil clenched his fist closing his eyes before slamming both of them on his desk. He felt wary and tired but he already knew dream would not come to him that night for his efforts to try and forget Thorin Oakenshield had been crushed by this unexpected visit. By this unexpected invitation and the gift…

The Elven-King turned around his eyes lying on the box on the table. He tilted his head to the side, his fingertips brushing against the surface of the table then on the wooden box. He outlined the rune feeling warm and wishful before erasing any hopeful thoughts from his mind.

Thranduil opened the box froze as soon as he realized what was inside it.

It was the emerald necklace, the one the men of Dale called the Necklace of Girion. So deliciously crafted, with gold, green and silver the necklace was made to be worn by Kings. He had the honour to meet Girion once and the man had certainly worn it with elegance.

Why was this here? He remembered Bard giving the necklace to Thor as sign of ‘friendship and loyalty. A pact between them to never turn their backs on the other.’

Thranduil caressed the necklace admiring the jewel while his mind came up with explanations for this strange gift. Putting the necklace from the box Thranduil realized there was a small note.

_“Loyalty, honour, a willing heart, I can ask no more than that.”_

Was Thorin playing with him? Thranduil wouldn’t be surprise for the anger and resentment of the Dwarves could last their whole lives and Thranduil had made enough damage to ensure Thorin’s hate.

Was this gift a mere joke or did Thorin actually meant something by it? Bofur’s words came to the King’s mind and Thranduil felt suddenly very tired: _‘you know what the significance behind the gift is. You have, after all, given one yourself with the same purpose.’_

He sighed closing the box with a strong clash he went to leave the room but, as an afterthought, he returned and grabbed the box taking it with him everywhere he went. After he made sure the preparations would be ready for the next day and that no one would disturb him Thranduil retired to his room for the afternoon.

Legolas followed his father with his eyes, the celebrations had already started but as of late, the Elven-King hadn’t succumbed to the pleasures of dancing, music and drinks. To say he was worried would be an understatement; he has starting to see his father faltering in his throne. He had seen just how tired and absentminded he had become; Thranduil could mask it for those around him but not for his son. Never from him.

Legolas tilted his head down the hall where he knew he would be directed to the guest room in which the Dwarf and Mr. Baggins resided for the night. He hesitated for a moment, he didn’t know why but he had a suspicion that perhaps they would give some lights to Thranduil’s behaviour.

“My Prince.” Legolas turned around to see one of his father’s personal guards approaching.

“Yes, what is it?” The elf stopped in front of him bowing lightly.

“My Lord Thranduil has asked me to tell you that you are to leave tomorrow with the Dwarf and Master Baggins.” Legolas lifted an eyebrow confused. “The Dwarven King has asked for an audience and your father thought it prudent for you to go in his stead.”

Legolas remained silent for a moment, his eyes drifting away to the hall leading to his father’s room.

“Then I shall prepare myself.” Legolas finally said, the elf bowed respectfully and Legolas followed him only half hearing to what he was saying about the trip. The prince’s thoughts were with his father and the puzzle surrounding him and his conduct.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“You know Thorin is going to be mad, don’t you?” Bilbo nodded gravely he looked behind him to see Thranduil standing at the entrance gate as Legolas along with Bofur, Bilbo and the small entourage of Dwarves and Elves accompanying the Dwarf and the Hobbit and the Prince of Mirkwood. They all crossed the bridge and left the halls of the Elven-King.

Just like the day before, Thranduil didn’t look pretty well. It looked to Bilbo as if the Elven-King hadn’t slept at all. Bilbo didn’t know much about the world outside the Shire but, he was pretty curtained Elves didn’t get sick. The Hobbit turned to Legolas and saw a worried frown attached to his face.

“What are we gonna say to him?” Asked Bofur to Bilbo. The both of them knew Thorin wouldn’t be happy for the King had been very adamant on his petition to bring Thranduil to his Halls on Erebor. Even if they had to drag him; of course Bilbo had dismissed the idea and had convinced Bofur it wouldn’t be right to drag a King from his Kingdom only because another King was acting strange.

“I think we better let Balin deal with him.” Replied Bilbo after a while. “He seemed to know everything surrounding Thorin and may make him see reason.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Bofur shook his head caressing his beard. “I still don’t get this strange obsession Thorin had with King Thranduil. I surely hope he is out to kill him to make him pay for our mistreatment on his lands.”

Bilbo winced noticing Legolas and some of the Elves were glaring at Bofur, “You know, we better change the subject. I’m pretty sure Thorin’s intentions are…are of a well-intent nature.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Two days later, Thranduil was half listening to what one of his advisers was telling him about the provisions from the nearing winter and the trade between Lake Town and his own city, and how this relationship would be affect _if_ the King of Erebor decided to enter in a mutual alliance with Mirkwood.

The King’s mind, however, was on another place. He had spent another sleepless night, tossing around with fragments of memories invading his mind. It was rather frustrating to want something you could never have. However, for Elves, the matters of the heart were heavier than it could ever be for Men or Dwarves.

Love was indeed cursed for one couldn’t live without the other.

And when this love involved other races it was…condemned. You either join your beloved in dead or suffer a thousand lives regretting what could be.

Thranduil wished there was a way to quieten down his thoughts to perhaps engage himself in something that would make him forget. But the chatter about treaties, alliances and so on wasn’t helping matters.

The adviser was about to ask Thranduil his opinion when someone barged in without waiting to be invited.

Thranduil lifted his stare fixing a stern glare on the young elfling interrupting the meeting. “What is it?”

“My Lord…” The Elf seemed scare and in a hurry, he bow clumsily before speaking. “Orcs and Wargs on the borders of Mirkwood.”

 “Wargs and Orcs? That’s impossible, not with the Battle still so fresh on their minds.” Replied the adviser, Thranduil frowned standing up.

“What exactly do you mean?” Thranduil asked looking at the young elf, the elf squirmed with panic still attached to his features.

“Captain Tauriel was with other’s watching the borders when they were ambushed. Orcs and wargs and…and spiders.”

The Adviser stood up speaking but Thranduil remained silent for a moment. It was seldom that Wargs and Orcs joined themselves unless there was a purpose to their union. But to have the spiders working with them it could only mean there was _something_ or _someone_ else working behind the attacks.

“Prepare my best archers and swordsmen.” Thranduil told the young elf. “Make sure they are ready for me in ten minutes.”

“My Lord...you…you are not thinking of going…are you?” Thranduil turned to the old elf with a stern look.

“Of course I am.”

“But my Lord…” Thranduil lifted a hand raisin an eyebrow.

“I do not have to give any explanations, Aran. The protection of my people comes first.” Aran bowed apologizing for his impertinence.

Thranduil left striding towards the armoury with his chief councillor closed behind him.  The Elven-King welcomed the distraction of battle, the rush of fighting would make sure he forget everything that had been tormenting his mind and would ensure he had a dreamless night.

The young elf wasn’t exaggerating his reaction. By the time Thranduil arrived with the rest of his Elves, they had many corpses of Orcs, Wargs and two Elves.  The spiders had trapped the small platoon with their webs, corneiring them into a tight circle hurting and killing them one by one.

The arrival of the King sent the creatures into a fit of horrified screams and a fast escape. Thranduil ordered some of the Elves with him to help while he moved fast towards the female Captain attending to one of the wounded.

“What happened here, Tauriel?” The woman stood up bowing to her King.

“My Lord, we were ambushed.” Tauriel looked around with a fire in her eyes, anger dripping from them. “They lure us here and surrounded us. There were more but they moved east to the border of the forest. I think they were waiting for reinforcements.”

Thranduil scowled gravely his hand on his sword while he looked around him. At least two dead, six wounded that would need to go back to the city. The Elven-King turned to face Tauriel.

“Organized them, I want the dead and the wounded back to the city. The rest with me, we are not letting the orcs or those damned spiders escape after this.”

In less than fifteen minutes Thranduil was at the head of his elves. They went after the orcs following the still fresh trace on the ground. The morning had given pass to the afternoon and the Black Forest was starting to darken around the Elves. They didn’t stop until they found themselves in front of the black river near the border joining Mirkwood with Erebor.

By then Tauriel was starting to have a bad feeling, the forest had never been friendly and it was only thanks to protection proved by the river and the Elven palace that the protection covered the lands nearby. But, they were too far away from such protections almost six hours away from the land of the Dwarves. And, while their prince was trying to forge an alliance with them, it didn’t mean they would take kindly to a group of armed elves nearing their territory.

The Captain turned to her King and saw tiredness there, she saw the distracted glinted in those blue eyes and for a moment she wondered if maybe her King was thinking the same thing as her.

Even in the distance, the Solitary Mountain was a magnificent sight. Standing proudly and strong at plain view for everyone to see and recognized one of the last homes of the Dwarven Kingdoms. The home of Durin’s folk. Of Thorin Oakenshield.

Even now, the damned Dwarf has a way to sneak his way inside Thranduil’s mind and the King smiled bitterly shaking his head. It would be better to be claimed by death that suffering this agonizing torture.

As if hearing the silent thoughts of the Elven-King, Thranduil soon found himself on the ground. He felt a sharp pain traveling down his body and an intense burning on his left side. He heard screams and his subjects calling his name. The Elven-King opened his eyes to see a gigantic spider above him, sneering somehow with his horrifying eyes on him. Thranduil grabbed his sword slashing the creature that emitted a blood curling howl.

He stood up feeling dizzy half of his body was burning while the other half sending shoots of pain up Thranduil’s arm and neck. The Elven-King grabbed his sword and faced the orc in front of him, evading the hairy claw from the wounded spider. The blurry vision was making it difficult for Thranduil to focus on his target but he never gave up. And he didn’t stop until the black blood from his enemy was pouring on the grass.

Thranduil stopped another slash from an enemy scimitar, the clash of metal against metal resounding along with those of the rest of his warriors.  However, Thranduil was feeling consciousness slipping away. Whatever had caused the wound on his side was consuming what little energy he had left in him.

The last thought on Thranduil’s mind before he felt a burning cut on his chest and welcome darkness was his wish to see Erebor one last time.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The soft bed under his back felt heavenly, he could smell the fresh aroma of medicinal herbs and recent made tea. He didn’t open his eyes immediately but made a strange noise at the back of his throat when he felt pain go through his side.

He remembered what happened. The attack, the hunt and then his mind going back to his tormentor only to be surprised by a spider and then he only got bits of fuzzy details and intense pain.

Thranduil felt movement to his left, his muscles tense trying to gauge any form of danger. Thranduil shivered feeling the weight of someone’s stare on him; he felt the ghost of a shadow on his face warm breath making his skin tremble. Still, he didn’t open his eyes instead he remained still controlling his breathing and focusing on the tingling in his abdomen.

“For how long are you going to pretend to be asleep?” Thranduil opened his eyes in shock he then found looking into Thorin’s ones a perfectly form smirk on the Dwarf’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil noticed his voice sounded strange, groggy and dry less demanding than it should be.

Thorin didn’t answer immediately instead he moved closer to the Elven-King, his fingertips brushing against the naked chest of Thranduil. The elf’s eyes opened wide, his muscles tensed and there was fear and longing in those blue eyes. Thorin scowled taking his hand away and moving away from the elf King.

“What do you remember, Thranduil?” The Elf didn’t answer immediately he just closed his eyes again taking a deep breath to calm his raging heart. When he opened them again Thorin was looking at him partially annoyed waiting impatiently for an answer. “Well?”

Thranduil remembered a lot of things. He remembered his feelings for Thorin; he remembered the humiliation of waking up in a cell, naked and satisfied but alone. He remembered the shame of being tossed aside like nothing more than human harlot. He couldn’t forget the one who had such a dangerous hold of his heart stepped onto it without any care.

The Elven-King looked over at Thorin; he felt the need to do something. To make Thorin understand how shattered Thranduil felt. But Thranduil did nothing, he stared at Thorin with coldness because, above all else, he still had the pride of his people and he wouldn’t give Thorin the satisfaction of seeing him undone. Again.

“A surprise attack. I am guessing the spider’s venom affect me more than I thought it would.” The voice sound detached, cold and indifferent; Thranduil refused to look over at Thorin and see mockery or exasperation in that face.

“More than you thought?” The anger tingeing the voice was what made Thranduil turned his head towards Thorin. The Dwarf was trembling with badly contained anger; his eyes were gleaming with something Thranduil couldn’t place. “You spend the last three days unconscious in this bed, bleeding, cold and with fever. It certainly affected you more than you thought!”

Before Thranduil could question or reprimand Thorin his behaviour the door opened and Legolas barged in. His face showed the relief he felt when he saw his father awake.

“Father!” Thranduil winced falling on the bed again after he attempted to sit up. Legolas was by his bed side, grabbing his hand and showing a small frown of concern. “Do not move too much. Your wounds are still fresh and can open at any moment.”

“I am not that delicate, Legolas.” The King gave his son a tiny smile but Legolas didn’t return it, instead the young elf looked over at Thorin who had on a stoic expression. “What is it?”

“It was a trap. They were meant to lurk me out of the protection of our home and capture me. They didn’t expect you to show yourself.” Legolas started talking guilt and anger evident in his eyes. “When they realized they couldn’t go to their master’s lair without at least someone of royal blood they tried to attack you.”

Thranduil frowned trying to digest what Legolas was saying. He knew orcs didn’t usually seem so organized. They need someone stronger and smarter to direct them in a clear goal. The fact they had the spiders working with them create an uneasy thought in Thranduil’s mind.

“You were badly injured and the orcs would have succeed if…if King Thorin hadn’t arrived at that moment.” Legolas made a face; he refused to look over at Thorin so he focused his attention on his father. “He…He save your life and that of our people.”

“Tauriel has returned to Mirkwood. I ordered her to make sure clean clothes and some other necessities would reach us promptly.” Thranduil nodded his head watching Thorin huffed something but otherwise ignoring father and son.

Thranduil glanced at Thorin who had now his back at them. The King heard as his son told him everything that had transpired between him being hurt and being brought to Erebor and what had happened to the orcs, wargs and spiders. The conversation prolonged for almost two hours and, every once in a while, Thranduil would look over at Thorin out of the corner of his eyes.

To say the Elven-King was confused would be accurate.  He didn’t understand why Thorin was still there, fidgeting and growling and glancing at Thranduil and his son every once in a while only to go back to face the window and growl some more. Legolas didn’t like the Dwarven King’s presence in the room, he tried to speak lower, for his father’s ears, but the acoustic of the room didn’t allow him much privacy. The Prince had to watch his tongue and not say anything that could be offensive for the King.

Two hours later and a group of Dwarves directed by Bilbo Baggins barged in indicating Legolas he should go to the Hall Room were dinner would be served shortly. Legolas hesitated not wanting to leave his father’s side but the King assured him he would be fine. Legolas finally left with Bilbo who told him Fili and Kili wanted to dare him to another competition and the Elven Prince smirked following the Hobbit outside.

Balin greeted the Elven-King and attended to his wounds and the changed of bandages while food was served to him. In all that time Thranduil tried to ignore the heated stare from Thorin, how his naked chest was at plain view, scare and bloodied.

“This should do, those nasty swords had some kind of poison in them.” Commented Balin cleaning up the last of the blood and covering the wounds. “I know Elves heal faster, but this would take another couple of days.”

Thranduil nodded feeling strange in the Dwarven Kingdom, a long-time foe, attending to him in such a thoughtful manner.

“Thank you, Master Balin.” Balin inclined his head and his eyes looked upon the Elven-King with a strange glint.

“It was nothing. You should really thank King Thorin. He is the one who save your life and didn’t leave your bedside for three days.”

With those last words Balin left, not before giving an enraged Thorin a mischievous smile. Thranduil fidgeted nervously he had sworn to himself to not look for Thorin until his feelings had been buried to the deepest corner of his heart. He didn’t need for Thorin to be back so soon for the pain of rejection and unrequited love was still fresh in his soul.

The King under the Mountain glared at the door for a few seconds before turning his attention to Thranduil. He admired the stoic figure of the Elven King sitting with his back straight, his hands moving gracefully grabbing the utensils and selecting his food. His skin pale and smooth at plain sight for the Dwarven King to see; Thorin wanted to take the rest of the bed covers and admire those legs clad in baggy silky pants. Thorin had been here, just as Balin had said, from the moment they brought Thranduil if only to assure himself the Elven-King would be treated with care.

“Do you need anything else?” Thorin locked eyes with Thranduil who sat there eying curiously at the Dwarf.

“Did you get my gift?” Thorin blurted out because he could control himself. He saw, with pleasure, as Thranduil’s pale cheeks took on a red-ish colour. Then, as soon as it appeared it was gone giving the Elven-King a cold exterior.

“It was unnecessary.” Thranduil played with his food for a moment before continuing. “But, I thank you for such a thoughtful present.”

Thranduil didn’t say anything else, he still felt tired and he only wish to eat and then sleep some more. Thorin bounced slowly back and forth, he eyed Thranduil with suspicion, as if he thought the Elven-King was lying or holding something up. Finally he approached the bed and the Dwarf saw as those muscle tensed.

“Didn’t….didn’t Bofur tell you anything? Didn’t you read the note?” Thorin now looked conflicted, his mind working on ways to pummel Bofur for forgetting to deliver the message.

“I did and he did.” Thranduil occupied himself with the food wondering briefly what was happening.

Thorin opened his mouth and then closed it again he neared the bed and suddenly he was right beside Thranduil looking down on the Elf. Thranduil lifted his face but refused to give in those dark eyes, he refused to give Thorin another chance to humiliate him.

“Is there anything else?” Suddenly, Thranduil found himself amused by the angered reaction from Thorin. The Dwarven King didn’t know what to do or say, he spluttered for a moment then narrowed his eyes and moved his face closer to Thranduil’s.

“Are you playing with me?” Thorin growled lowly and Thranduil couldn’t help the tremor on his body.

“Why would I do that? Now, if you don’t mind King Thorin, I would like to rest, I’m not feeling well.”

“Do you realize you are in my house? You cannot dismiss me like this.” Replied Thorin affronted by the cold dismissal. Thranduil tilted his head in a position that make his lips brush against those of Thorin’s.

The Elven-King knew he was playing with fire, he knew he would get burn if he didn’t stop but for as long as he can remember Thorin Oakenshield had always made him lose himself.

“Do you forget, my Lord, that I am still a King to a powerful Realm? I am your guest here, yes.” Thorin felt his hand twitched to his side. “But I am also an ally, surely you would not do _this_ to someone you offer a gift of friendship?”

Thorin opened his mouth to protest when someone barge in, Thorin jumped startle and Thranduil almost did the same. The youngest nephew of Thorin, Kili, entered the room sweaty and out of breath. Kili eyed the two King’s curiously, he noticed a strange red colour on his uncle’s cheeks, Thranduil’s face was stoic and Kili couldn’t help but think he just interrupted something important.

“What is it?” Asked Thorin with more force than necessary, Kili flinched smiling sheepishly at Thorin.

“Sorry to bother you but...Uh, I think you better come to the Hall Room.” Thorin looked suspiciously at Kili who made his best interpretation of an innocent face. Thorin turned to Thranduil but the Elven-King had put the dishes away and was observing the scene with disinterested.

“Very well, I hope is not something like what you and _that_ elf did last time.” Rumbled Thorin.

“That _Elf_ is my son, Thorin. Please refrain yourself for insulting my kin in my presence.”

Thorin turned to Thranduil he open his mouth and then shook his head deciding against it. He nodded to Kili who exited the room.

“Have a good night, Thranduil.”

Thorin closed the door and Thranduil was left alone in the room to his thoughts.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“How are you feeling this morning, Lord Thranduil?” Thranduil turned around to see Bilbo at his door. The same Dwarves of the night before entered the room placing the breakfast on a nearby table.

That morning he had woken up feeling better, Thranduil hadn’t sleep like this in a long time and it wasn’t until he was looking at the ceiling he realized the reason. The room smell like Thorin. As he got to inspected it carefully, he realized the room was decorated with royal blue and silver, the bed had been handmade crafted with oak and covered with a soft, comfortable mattress and silky and cotton bed sheets. The walls were decorated with weapons and other handmade articles, metal and wood were the main theme and suddenly, while inspecting the room, Thranduil realized startled this was Thorin’s room.

Thranduil heard someone clearing his throat; the Elven-King looked around and then down to see the Hobbit directing a curious glanced his way.

“I apologize; I think my mind drift away for a moment.” Thranduil bowed his head cordially to Bilbo who waved away smiling at the King.

“It is fine. I guess being injured and waking up in an unknown place must be disturbing.” Bilbo cocked his head while looking outside the window with Thranduil to his right. “And this room smells like Thorin….I mean, King Thorin.”

“Why do you keep bringing me food?” Thranduil asked suddenly, Bilbo shrugged eying the Dwarves who were exiting the room.

“Someone has to.” Bilbo then shook his head sighing exasperatedly. “I mean, they would do it because Thorin was very clear he wants you to be provided for at the best of the Dwarves abilities. Still, you are the one who kept their King captive.”

Thranduil pursed his lips but out of respect for Bilbo he didn’t say anything. He actually was quite tired of having to explain his actions. If things had turned out differently he was sure the Dwarves would have done the same with him.

“Thank you for the breakfast.” Bilbo smiled at the King and watched as he sat carefully and started eating.

“I’m glad I got to help, since they haven’t allowed me to go back to the Shire.” Replied Bilbo dryly.

“It seems as if my assumptions were wrong.” Started Thranduil in between bites, the Elven-King indicated with one hand the spot beside him, after a second of hesitation Bilbo sat facing Thranduil. “The Dwarves…They seemed to be quite attached to you.”

The smile Bilbo shoot Thranduil was big and shining and Thranduil couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins was certainly someone that you couldn’t meet without feeling some kind of bond with him.

“Oh, it wasn’t easy I tell you. Dwarves are stubborn and sometimes exasperating!”

“Only sometimes?” Bilbo chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, but those like Thorin are not only stubborn but proud…still; I wouldn’t change this adventure for anything in the world.”

“Do tell me, I have heard from Gandalf you travelled with King Thorin’s company through many dangers. But I never got the details.”

Bilbo complied he proceeded to tell Thranduil everything he thought prudent about his adventures He decided to omit those details that made the Dwarves look bad or quite insensitive to Bilbo’s needs. The Hobbit narrated with a passion so refreshing Thranduil soon found himself smiling at how easy the story-telling came to Bilbo. He also realized how fiercely loyal was Bilbo to the company and to Thorin.

This was another side of Thorin Thranduil had never seen. Bilbo was disclosing this leader that would do anything for his friends and his kin. This exile prince who fought to his last breath to recover what was stolen, to give himself and his people a home.

Every time Thranduil decided to close his heart something new happened and Thorin sneak his way back to Thranduil’s heart.

“…He actually hugged me which you understand it caught me by surprised! I have never seen Thorin so grateful or so emotional.” The smile on Bilbo softened and Thranduil felt oppression on his heart. The way the Hobbit spoke of Thorin with fondness and that tiny smile on his face told Thranduil there may be more in the relationship between Bilbo Baggins and Thorin. Perhaps something did happen, or was happening.

“You love him.” The Elven-King stated looking directly into Bilbo’s eyes. The Hobbit blinked and nodded.

“Of course! Or else, I wouldn’t have bothered so much to try and prevent a war.” Bilbo shook his head.

“No, I mean, you _love_ him.” Repeated Thranduil and realization dawn on Bilbo.

“Oh, Oh…No, I mean yes.” Bilbo caressed the back of his neck choosing his words carefully. “I love him, of course! But as someone could love a friend, a brother even!”

Bilbo shot Thranduil a strange glanced before continuing, “Besides, I don’t have a chance if I were to love Thorin that way.”

Thranduil glanced at Bilbo shooting him a puzzle look; “What do you mean?”

“For all his hard exterior he shows and all the arrogance and pride, Thorin has a soft spot. He had already given his heart away and believe me none of us is the one holding it.”

Thranduil didn’t need to know this. He really wanted to go back to Mirkwood and forever forget his encounter with Thorin or that he was in his room and in his bed.  Bilbo observed the Elven-King and realized he looked just the same as the last time he saw him. Bilbo knew it wasn’t because of his wounds, or the poison, there was something else. But, what could be so powerful as to get an elf, an Elven-King, sick?

“Good morning.” Bilbo jumped startle and his eyes went to the door where Thorin was standing. Bilbo was about to tell Thorin he should really know before entering a room when he noticed something extremely curious.

“In the near future, King Thorin, I would not be opposed to you knocking before entering a room I am in.”

“This is my room and my halls.” Replied Thorin back, Thranduil glared at him coldly.

“Yes, and I am a guest and wounded, or is it costmary for _Dwarves_ to just barge in without a care for others?”

Bilbo snorted, “Well…”

He was silenced by the icy stare coming from Thorin and the Hobbit sat there watching Thorin and Thranduil bickered back and forth about costumes and formalities. Bilbo watched with increasing interest the way Thranduil tensed, his blue eyes gleaming with a light Bilbo haven’t seen there before. He saw every feeling for Thranduil was open like a book for those who dared to look closely. And the little Hobbit was there to do just that, apparently. Thorin has always been easy to read. He was fiercely loyal, arrogant, and proud but he was also kind and just. Thorin would carry his heart on his sleeve when those he held there were at play. Bilbo saw it several times with how he treated Fili and Kili. How Thorin treated him and Balin.

But the way he behaved around Thranduil…

The door closed with a slam and Bilbo snorted again. The Hobbit turned to Thranduil who was still looking at the door with anger and longing in his eyes. It took the Elven-King a few seconds to realize he was being observed and, when he turned to the source, he realized Bilbo Baggins was looking at him with knowing, understanding eyes.

The both of them stared at each other for a long time but it was Thranduil the first one to take his eyes away.

“Pathetic, don’t you think Master Baggins?” The crack in that powerful voice, the diminishing light in those eyes spoke of a pain Bilbo had never seen or felt before. And Bilbo felt sympathy for the broken heart of the Elven-King.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is not that hard after all.

The path to happiness was a tricky one.

Sometimes you would get what you want, some others you would suffer before obtaining it and some just don’t get them the way you want them to.

Thranduil crossed his arms leaning against the wall to watch the festivities down in the Hall Room. He observed his son, composed and calm, tricking the young nephews of Thorin. The two of them seemed eager to prove their abilities and show they were as adept as the elf. Thranduil kept on observing the different participants, Dwarves singing and toasting laughing and eating.

This was something you didn’t get to see every day. Elves randomly got a chance to deal with Dwarves without any kind of tension filling the room. Thranduil made sure he was hidden for probing eyes, he was sure to observe without giving his presence away. He didn’t want to be caught trying to spot his heart’s desire.

“It is wise for you to be wandering around my palace, Thranduil?” The Elven-King turned around masking his surprised as he took in the form of Thorin.

Thranduil felt desire at the sight of Thorin’s body devoid of his heavy armour or his king’s clothing. He wore a pair of black leggings marking every curved of his strong thighs and a royal blue robe with silver borders. His beard had been recently brushed and was put in the same fashion he wore it on their first meeting in the Throne Room so long ago. This only made him angry; he shouldn’t feel anything like this for Thorin.

“I do not like enclosed spaces. Your room, while comfortable, feels like a jail to me.”

An awkward silence settled between them, Thorin glanced at Thranduil and then moved forward past him. The Dwarf looked down and a small smile appeared on his face at his nephews antics. Thranduil remained still, with his back to Thorin, he cocked his head and started walking away when a hand closed tightly around his wrist.

The Elven-King tensed his eyes glancing at the hand around him, this was the first time they were alone since Thranduil woke up and the incident in the Elf’s cells. Thranduil turned an icy stare to Thorin who suddenly was very quiet with his eyes downcast, and an unreadable expression on his face.

Then, Thorin cleared his throat and dare to look Thranduil in the eye. The Elven-King saw then the hardships of time, what exile and the loss of his family had caused Thorin. Thranduil got to see that, even with the hard façade, with the proudness and the arrogance, with the title of a King. Thorin was still young and, at that moment, he seemed lost.

“You never told me what you thought of my gift.” Thorin lifted his face and there was shyness there, something that caught Thranduil completely by surprised.  

“I thought it was very thoughtful of you. A sign of peace after all the misunderstandings and the betrayals.” Thranduil never meant for that to sound so bitter, but it did. Thorin frowned confused he eyed Thranduil with suspicion.

“I don’t think you understand.” Thorin sighed exasperate struggling to find the right words.

 “I do not know what you have done to me.” Thranduil lifted an eyebrow taking a step forward trying to disentangle himself from the Dwarf’s grip. Thorin struggled putting Thranduil to him making him spin around to face Thorin.

“Ever since that day at your palace…I can’t seem to find peace.” Thorin was speaking with his voice filled with confusion and displeasure he wasn’t used to these conflictive emotions. Thranduil’s whole body took on a rigid position, he lifted his head and refused to let Thorin’s words affect him in any way.

“ _You_ cannot find peace?” Thranduil spat the question with a strange voice; Thorin looked up locking his eyes with Thranduil’s.

“I insulted you! I disgrace you!!” Replied Thorin a little louder. “And yet you came to my aid. You came and save my life and that of my kin! It is thanks to you Fili and Kili and myself are alive.”

Thranduil looked aside in shame and anger at the reminder of his misery. But Thorin didn’t seem to notice, “I wait and wait. I was sure you will come to me, I was sure you will realize…but then, you never did and, when I send for you. When I give you a gift for you to accept, what do you do? You keep evading me!”

“You presume too much, Thorin Oakenshield.” Said Thranduil icily, he grabbed Thorin’s hand and disentangled it from his wrist, surprising Thorin with his sudden strength.

“What happened _that_ day was an accident. A deplorable mistake that would not be repeat ever again.”

Before Thorin could say or do anything, Thranduil turned around and left. Thorin clenched his fist feeling the same tug on his heart, the same longing he has always felt around Thranduil.

Thranduil hadn’t even entered his room when the door was slammed open and there appeared a very agitated Thorin. The Elf rolled his eyes turning his back at Thorin.

“You still haven’t learnt to knock…” Just like before, Thorin’s hand closed around Thranduil’s wrist, this time around Thorin pulled harder making the Elven-King bend enough for Thorin to crash his lips against the elf’s ones.

Thranduil moaned feeling rough lips moving against his, a sneaky tongue probing open his mouth only to entangle with Thranduil’s tongue. Thorin claimed the mouth of the Elven-King much like he had done so the first time. It was this thought what brought Thranduil back from his kiss induce haze.

Thorin groaned in pain as his back hit the closest wall, he lifted his head with shock written on his eyes. He never thought the elf would be this strong but he had always thought the stories about the real strength of the Eldar were a myth. Dwarves were said to be stronger than Men, Hobbits but now that Thorin thought about it he didn’t remember what it said about elves.

“What have you done to me?” Thranduil watched Thorin with a mixture of anger, curiosity and puzzlement. The Dwarven King stood up and looked over at the Elven-King with something akin to distress.

“Even after Smaug you were all I could think of, you were present in my dreams and nightmares, you were there when I was trying to create things with my hands.” Thorin stood up closing the door behind him, he turned around and started walking slowly towards Thranduil. The Elven-King was so stunned he stepped back whenever Thorin advanced towards him.

“I do not understand why I have the need to be near you or why I would even think of touching you like a delicate jewel that needs the art of a craftsman.” Thorin scrunched his nose. “You are just an elf…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Thranduil never lost control before. He was raised to be collect, calm and cunning, to never let strong emotions get in the way of his kinghood. But, Thorin Oakenshield had always been that soft spot that shakes his emotions like anything else did before. And right now, it felt as if Thorin had spit on those emotions, on every ounce of affection Thranduil had for him.

That’s why he punched him. And Thorin opened his eyes wide not believing what just happened.

“Do not dare to mock me, Thorin. For I do not take kindly to such antics!” Thranduil was flustered glaring heatedly at Thorin who kept moving closer to the Elf. “You dare to ask me what I did to you but you never imagine what you did to me, what your actions unchained! Whatever made you think I would want to involve myself with you…”

“But, you want it!” Replied Thorin closing the gap between them. “You must want it or else you would have died!”

“What do you mean?” By now Thranduil’s voice was trembling, Thorin smirked pushing Thranduil backwards. The Elven-King fell on the ample sofa adorning the back of the room and Thorin grabbed his face with such a gentle touch Thranduil whimpered at the contact.

“I humiliate myself looking for an elf that could give me the information I seek. It wasn’t easy but I did…” Thorin leaned in kissing the skin under Thranduil’s earlobe; Thranduil closed his eyes losing the battle against his growing feelings and arousal. “Elves cannot be forced or else they died. You wanted me that day. You like what I did.”

“N-No…I didn’t.” Thorin captured Thranduil’s lower lip with his lips, teasing slightly.

“Why do you keep lying to yourself? Why do you keep running from me?” Thorin placed butterfly kisses around Thranduil’s mouth. “Why do you keep on diminishing when all you have to do is give into this.”

“Because you don’t understand what you do to me.” Was Thranduil response before Thorin closed the small gap between them and kiss him tenderly.

Thranduil gave into the kiss trembling like never before; he felt his hand closing around Thorin’s clothes while Thorin’s own hands started moving down to open the light robe Thranduil had been using. A part of the Elven-King’s mind was screaming at him to stop, to not give into this once more. But Thranduil was too distract as Thorin’s kisses moved away from his mouth and dawn his throat.

It wasn’t until Thorin bite him on his neck and the way he arched his back moaning in uncontrolled pleasure that Thranduil finally realized what was happening.

“N...No.” He mumbled, Thorin didn’t hear him instead he continue his ministrations of Thranduil’s throat. Thranduil struggled until Thorin found himself on his back on the floor.

“No, I said no.” By now both of them were breathing heavily, Thranduil had never seen how dark Thorin’s eyes could get.

“I never thought Elves could be this strong.” Replied Thorin grabbing Thranduil’s robes and spreading them open. Thranduil shiver when calloused fingertips caressed his now naked flesh.

“I won’t let you use me this time around, Thorin.” Thranduil sounded firm looking down at Thorin who merely cocked his head to the side shooting the efl a daring stare. “We are going to do things _my way._ ”

Thorin smirked and soon found Thranduil’s lips against his distracting him from anything else. The spent some time kissing, Thorin getting restless his hands caressing every inch he could touch moving Thranduil’s robes off his body. Thranduil kissed the Dwarf’s beard brushing his clean skin against it, the Elf smirked bringing his hips down to Thorin’s brushing his crotch against his. Thorin moaned and Thranduil closed his eyes enjoying the taste of Thorin’s neck under his lips.

“Today I am going to possess you, I am going to own you and before this you will wish for me to be the only one in your bed.” Thranduil growled lowly whispering in Thorin’s ear; he accompanied each word with a tentative trust of his hips against Thorin’s.

Thorin was beyond his mind for he had never seen the Elven-King behaved in such unrestrained way. Thranduil was delicate yet strong in his motions, he teased instead of making things faster. He had Thorin waiting for something more, for something different that the dry humping the elf was doing at the moment. But, even if this was all he was going to get for the night Thorin had to admit he was loving it. No one before had tried to dominate him and the Elven-King wouldn’t be first…Thorin smirked once again grabbing Thranduil’s hips to help the elf with his movements. He would let Thranduil have his fun for now, then Thorin would teach Thranduil who was in charge.

“If you…you keep this up I may not…” Thranduil chuckled his vibrations going straight to Thorin’s already hardened length. Thranduil’s hands move to opened Thorin’s blue clothing hands scratching his chest moving lower and lower.

“What about the Dwarves endurance? Was it a mere myth?” Thranduil whispered mockingly, before Thorin could say anything Thranduil captured his lips in another bruising kiss.

Thranduil rocked his hips hard making Thorin raised his back from the floor, the Dwarf’s hands were pulling at Thranduil’s hips. Thranduil pulled from the kiss his teeth catching’ Thorin’s lower lip tugging softly at it. The Elven-King felt his own need ready to be satisfied, his body was screaming for more contact for him to take Thorin. But his heart, still hurt and scorched denied it. He would make Thorin understand the deep of Thranduil’s hurt.

“Undress for me.” Suddenly Thorin felt cold, he lifted his eyes to see Thranduil standing up looking down at him with hunger in his blue eyes. Thorin swallowed, feeling his throat dry at the side of the disheveled King in front of him.

“W-why did you…”

“Undress for me.” Thranduil growled and Thorin felt a sudden need to hear that growling voice once more. Thranduil sat on the bed his eyes roaming the strong figure of Thorin, his heart beating fast with longing and desire.

Thorin stood his eyes locked with those of Thranduil. Thorin started with his blue robe taking it with shaky hands throwing it away, his fingers soon found the waist band of his leggings pulling them off in one single motion. Thranduil observed fascinate the body in front of him. Strong, muscular thighs with a soft tanned in them, strong, broad chest covered with a path of hair. The Elven-King’s eyes rest on top of Thorin’s length, erect and pulsating a wet trail coming from the very tip.

Thorin was getting impatient; he took a step forward but stopped when Thranduil place a hand on his chest. Thorin tilted his head in curiosity watching the hunger, the unrestrained lust in Thranduil’s blue eyes.

“On the bed.” Thranduil ordered to which Thorin merely arched an eyebrow and stood firmly on the floor. Thranduil inclined his head, his hand moving lower. “On the bed.”

Thorin opened his mouth to protest but soon found himself engaged in another kiss, this one slower and sensual. A dancing of lips, a taste of teasing sensations that went straight to his growing need.

Wanting more but sure the Elven-King wouldn’t give more if he didn’t comply, Thorin went to the bed and sit there. Thranduil smirked forgetting for a moment his own fears and insecurities, enjoying how obedient, how needy Thorin looked. Without looking away from the other King, Thranduil started taking his clothes off shivering under the warm of Thori’s gaze.

Thranduil crawled his way towards Thorin biting down on Thorin’s neck and tearing from the Dwarf a pleasurable growl. Thranduil restrf his head in the crock of Thorin’s neck, his hands caressing down to Thorin’s length. Thorin gasped and his hands went to wrap themselves around Thranduil.

A finger touched the engorged head, playfully spreading the pre-cum coming from it. Thorin moaned lifting his hip, his hands grabbing Thranduil’s back. Thranduil sighed and kept his teasing until he felt Thorin’s nails digging on his flesh.

“No, not yet…” Replied the Elven-King lifting his head and licking the warm liquid from his lips. Thorin watched slack-jawed watching the every move of that finger inside Thranduil’s mouth; Thranduil smirked and soon moved his hand down until his finger prodded at Thorin’s tight opening and slowly enter him. Thranduil stop his ffinger watching with fascination the face of the Dwarven King.

“You…I can’t…you move!” Thorin felt the strange intrusion, not use at having himself invaded by long, slender fingers. He looked over at Thranduil having gotten use to the invasion of his fingers.

“Such eloquence.” Thranduil purred and Thorin, to show his impatience grabbed Thranduil by his hair and crash their lips together. Thranduil moaned into the kiss, his finger thrusting inside Thorin over and over making Thorin squirm under him.

Thranduil moved his finger slowly and gently, for all the talk he has been doing, for all the declarations of position in Thranduil’s mind Thorin was still the one he loved. He couldn’t hurt him beyond the simply mockery of what Thorin most desire. He would torture the Dwarf, not physically, but by doing things with patience and measuredly.

Thorin bit down on Thranduil’s lip when he felt a second finger join the first. He licked the blood and, for the first time, noticed he wasn’t the only one aroused. With a searching hand Thorin tried to reach Thranduil’s own shaft while enjoying the thrusting fingers of Thranduil.

Thranduil’s eyes rolled when a hand closed around him, his head falling on top of Thorin’s shoulder while the Dwarf started a set of firm strokes. Thranduil expanded his finger holding tightly onto Thorin both of them breathing heavily concentrated in not giving the other the sign of victory. Moving them back in, Thranduil angled his arm and his face lit up with triumph when Thorin let out something in Dwarvish and stopped the movements of his hand around the Elven-King’s length.

It was at that moment Thranduil positioned himself on top of Thorin, fingers still inside him thrusting slowly hitting from time to time that sweet spot that made Thorin speak in a language Thranduil did not know. The Elven-King watched fascinated as Thorin grabbed the sheets under him and tried to stop any signs of his own passion.

 _“Vanimle sila tiri_.” Whispered Thranduil. Thorin was confused but kiss Thranduil just the same, he felt as Thranduil positioned himself and broke the kiss. He looked into Thorin’s eyes and he pressed his hand brushing lightly against Thorin’s thighs, abdomen and chest. Thranduil’s tilted his head in curiosity observing as he breached into Thorin and his hardness slipped right through the tight ring of muscle. Thranduil bit down on his own lip moaning softly as he thrust inside.

Thorin felt the burning stretch between himself soon overcome by the first thrusts. Thranduil was methodic his hips moving with force and patience, one of his hands at one side of Thorin’s head, the other mapping the muscles of Thorin’s chest and abdomen. The Dwarf grasped Thranduil hips grunting to speed up, to make Thranduil rubbed that spot inside him. But the Elf shook his head caressing Thorin’s face with a mischievous smile.

Thorin opened his mouth and suddenly forgot what he was about to say as  Thranduil thrust faster, angling himself to brush against Thorin’s prostate. Thorin grabbed Thranduil by his neck and pulled him down crashing their lips together, Thranduil kissed him back his hips thrusting over and over. Thorin breathed on top of Thranduil’s mouth and his eyes found those of the Elven-King, Thorin smiled and before Thranduil could do anything Thorin turned them around.

“What...What are you doing?” Replied Thranduil breathelesly, Thorin was now sitting on top of him, his hands on Thranduil’s clean chest.

Thorin didn’t answer instead he stared grinding Thranduil’s crotch, rocking his hips while scratching the Elven.-King’s skin. Thranduil arched his back when Thorin lifted himself slightly only to bounced back down. Thorin did this a few times waiting for a moment before he set his hands firmly on the chest under him. With a grunt he started riding Thranduil hard and fast, his hips bouncing up and down, grinding from time to time eliciting sweet moans of pleasure from Thranduil.

Thranduil knew he had lost the control of the situation the moment he felt the tightness around him stroke his length. He knew he had lost when Thorin pierced him with his eyes while grinding his hips, while rocking his hips when all he could do as arch his back and moan for more. He knew he had lost when Thranduil flashed a smirk of triumph and then proceed to mark his chest with his mouth.

The Elven-King grabbed Thorin by his hip and put him down on him, his hands closing tightly around his flesh while Thorin bite down on his chest, up his collarbone and shoulder.

“Oh, _Elbereth.”_ Thranduil whispered feeling his passion nearing the end. With a foggy mind and desire deep between his soul, Thranduil let his hand wandered to where Thorin’s length was bouncing along with the Dwarf’s movements.

He took hold of the hardened flesh and started stroking it at the same time as he felt Thorin stroking his. Thorin sat straight establishing a firm rhythm, Thranduil looked at him propping himself up on his elbow, rising finally to grab Thorin by the back of his neck and kissing him. This time there was no crushing lips, not bruising ones. This time Thranduil couldn’t help but pour everything he felt for the Dwarf on top of him.

They kept joined kissing with Thranduil stroking Thorin, his thumb brushing from time to time the top of Thorin’s arousal. One last time, one last stroke and Thranduil spilled himself deep inside Thorin, his scream swallowed by Thorin’s mouth on his. The Elven-King shivered moving his hand faster feeling Thorin released on his chest. Thranduil fell on the bed with Thorin still on top of him; they stayed still for a moment recovering their breathings, clearing their minds.

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment and he wondered briefly how he would be able to go back to Mirkwood when his heart would forever remain in Erebor.

* * *

* * *

* * *

While the room had a window, it never point to an outside setting. Instead it went directly to the private gardens of the King and his family. There was a beautiful fountain made of white marble and silver, with crystalline water coming from it. This was one of the very first thing Thorin made reconstruct and the side was as magnificent as it had been before Smaug’s attack.

Thranduil turned around and saw the bed sheet untangled around Thorin’s legs. His chest uncovered and his head tilted facing the Elven-King. Since he woke up Thranduil had done nothing but think and enjoy the sight of a sleeping Thorin. He neared the bed and sat down; his hand bushed softly the chest presented to him. He leaned forward his fingers caressing softly, reverently while he contemplated running from the room before Thorin woke up.

“You have many scars.” Whispered Thranduil with a frown on his face, his hand mapping out a particular large one.

“I have fought many battles.” Thranduil jerked startle his hand withdrawing only to be stopped by Thorin’s one. Thorin took the Elven-King’s hand to his other scars caressing each one of them with care and curiosity.

“I thought you were still asleep.” Thorin smiled lifting an eyebrow.

“No, I wouldn’t miss the chance to see your half naked body while you watched outside the window.” Thranduil hung his head to hide the soft smile forming there. He put his hand away and rested his side on the bed, facing the Dwarven King.

There was silence after that, Thorin was looking at the ceiling and Thranduil had his eyes on Thorin. The moment, in a way, was awkward. What happened the night before had been a mistake none of them could repeat ever again. At least, that’s what Thranduil thought. It would be better than having your heart broken again.

“What have you done to me?” Thorin spoke turning to Thranduil with a serious expression on his face. “You have become more precious than the jewels and the gold in my home. You have become invaluable to me, not even my family’s heirloom is as important to me as you are.”

Thranduil swallowed his eyes growing wider at each of Thorin’s words. Thorin propped on his elbows resting his weight on his left one so his hand could caress Thranduil.

“I felt extremely displeased thinking that other hands may have touched you the way I did.” Thorin lowered his fingertips to touch the mark he had left the night before on Thranduil’s neck. “Tell me, Oh Elven-King, what have you done to me?”

Thranduil stood up rather fast, unable to be near Thorin to actually hear his words and find any honesty behind them. Thorin blinked confusedly sitting up and glaring at Thranduil.

“You dare to ask me what I have done to you when it was you the one to start the humiliation of my person.” Thranduil spoke coldly with his back turned to Thorin. “You dare to ask me what I did to you when, once again, I have fallen on your trap.”

“Trap? Whatever are you talking about?” Thranduil turned around sending an icy stare at Thorin; ignoring the fact the bed sheets barely covered the lower waist of the Dwarf.

“You must have known. You must know! For what other reason you would take pleasure of taking me in my own palace to later try to take me in yours?”

Thorin stood up and Thranduil kept his eyes on Thorin’s not giving into the temptation of scanning the body in front of him.

“Oh, I do not know, Thranduil. But, maybe I must say to my tremendous displeasure and entirely against my will, I seem to not entirely despise you.” Spat Thorin glaring at Thranduil. “Don’t you think that’s reason enough?”

“Now I understand why Thráin and Thrór never got you to engage with a fair maiden of your people.” Commented Thranduil rolling his eyes. “Your courting manners are lacking severely. For a King.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes moving closer to Thranduil, “What would you want me to say then? What would I have me to do? Court you?”

“Well, that’s a start.” Thranduil smirked at the sudden flash of agony and terror in Thorin’s eyes. The Dwarf went silent and Thranduil wondered just in what moment the conversation changed, when did stop being a quarrel and became… _this_.

Thranduil saw as something in Thorin’s eyes gleam, the Dwarf turned to look at him with a strange stare. Thorin opened his mouth and then closed it again tilting his head while looking at Thranduil. _Really_ looking at him. All at once Thranduil felt nervous, he realized Thorin was looking at him with a softened expression and warm in his eyes.

“You give me the harp. That time before we kissed.” Thranduil felt his throat suddenly dry. He nodded as an answer and saw as the Dwarf shook his head with a bittersweet smile on his face.

 “But, you made the harp.” Thranduil lowered his gaze feeling suddenly shy.

“I did.” Thorin cocked his head trying to search for the elf’s eyes.

“You must have known what it means to my people to give a handcraft gif to someone.” This time Thranduil met Thorin’s gaze and nodded. “Why? Why an harp?”

“Music is the very heart of my people, Thorin.” Thorin nodded his head and suddenly he felt the need to ask something. To make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“Do I really have to work hard to win over your heart?” Asked Thorin curious, Thranduil once again evade his stared.

“No, you don’t.” He finally said after a long silence, Thranduil felt hands under his chin and soon found himself looking at Thorin. His breath caught in his throat and his heart was beating fast and hard enough to be heard by the other King.

“Then, why keep us from what we both desire?” Thranduil cringed trying to let go of Thorin’s hold with little success.

“Because Elves give their hearts only once, Thorin.” Replied Thranduil serious. “We love, yes. We marry, of course. But, to really love, to give away our very existence only happens once. Some are fortunate to find this, some others are cursed with the fate untangled in between.”

“Do you believe yourself cursed?” Thranduil closed his eyes at Thorin’s touch, he stood up on his bed making him a head taller than Thranduil, the Elven-King sighed shrugging.

“I still do not know. Sometimes I believe myself curse, some others…” Thranduil never thought Thorin possess such tenderness in a kiss or a touch. It was melting him away for he could take a rough, unyielding Thorin; but to have him show this delicate nature was a new experience breaking Thranduil’s resolve.

“Let me show you that you are not cursed.” Thorin whispered against Thranduil’s lips. And with that he closed the gap between them once again. "Let me show you the agony of your love is not only yours."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere I can't remember right now that some of Tolkien's notes said that Elves could die if they were forced to have sex with some one. However, this doesn't seem to be clear as Elrohir and Elladan's mother was hurt and force to do many things while she was a prisioner of the orcs.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you like it and enjoy the story. Thanks for reading!


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